Up in the Air
by The-Queen-of-Fantasy
Summary: After playing guinea pig for an unfinished fountain of youth serum, Haven undergoes troublesome side effects. In order to track down the scientist who subjected her to this, she teams up with what's left of the Avengers. What happens when she discovers she can't trust her own heart along with her mind? Is it really her choice to fall for the soldier fresh out of cryo freeze?
1. Clear for Take Off

**Ok, you guys. This is going to be a long story, which I am very excited to tell. I've been working on it a while, but didn't want to post it until I had a good number of chapters under my belt. It is set post Civil War and is rated M for language and sex later on. Please send me your love, tough or gooey. Otherwise, enjoy the show kiddos!**

"Go!"

A hard shove sent me reeling down the last two steps of the stairwell. I glared up at my teammate, willing him to trip over his outlandish metal wings. Something animalistic fueled me on, refused to let me quit before I reached the target. I was being strung along by some unseen force, like a tether dragging me in the wake of the fleeing criminal. I pushed my aching legs up the stairs after Sam, straining my lungs to catch up with his ridiculously long strides.

The door to the roof was jammed shut, gracing me with those few seconds required to catch up. Sam jimmied the lock open in time for me to rush through first. Gravel crunched beneath my feet as I skidded to a stop. The night air of northern Siberia swept around me. Flurries of snow smacked against my goggles, fogging up the lenses as they melted against my flushed skin. I wrenched them off, trying to get bearings on the target.

"You're not cleared to engage, Haven," Sam barked in my ear.

"Fucking clear me then. I've got her." I could just make out the blur of the retreating aircraft on the horizon. I raced towards the edge of the roof, throwing myself towards the open air. Sam snatched my backpack, hurling me against the rocky roofing. It tore right through my pants, scraping away pieces of my shins as well. By the time I looked up, Sam was a blur of silver wings heading after the runner.

I sat back briskly, tapping as my earpiece clicked in and out of transmission. "Cap?" I called. Maybe now that I was out of the building, which could also serve as a nuclear bunker, I would get a signal.

"Update," the team leader's voice cackled through the line. We'd been out of commission for a good half hour. Snow storms and remote areas didn't go well with technology.

"Sam's got a lock on Professor Menzel," I replied.

"Good. Get to the rendezvous point. Romanoff is waiting."

"Sam's alone, Cap. He can't take her without back up."

"We're not taking her tonight. Her guards have regrouped. He's just tracking for now."

"Good job taking them out," I deadpanned, shifting to alleviate the pressure on my bruised ass. I felt dizzy now as the adrenaline drained from me. I felt stupid for being so reckless. What did I hope to do once I caught the woman who had experimented one me?

The comm cut out again. I sighed and twirled my finger in the air signaling a retreat for my party of one. I meandered over to the side of the building and glanced down. It was only three stories high. A stocky compound filled to the brink with Menzel's research. Research I'd helped her collect. I'd been her partner for only a year. She was the chemist and botanist, and I had owned the farm—a farm in the very location she needed to grow her questionable crops. She claimed to require the land in her search for a cure for all illnesses. In a way that was true; she had been growing immortal life.

Mixing any number of natural substances with manure is bound to produce some mutants in the fields. But she had the brilliant idea to add her own manmade chemical to the mix—something she called Genysis. And it worked. Of course, she used me as the unwitting test subject, slipping the medicinal grilled corn into our evening meal. To this day a common cold dare not challenge me.

Once she saw the experiment succeeded, she'd decided to press a pillow over my head in my sleep. I remember the feeling of suffocating, not getting enough air in my lungs and screaming until there was even less left. I remember the nothingness that came when my last breath left me. I remember feeling the air all around, but being unable to draw any of it into my body. And then the house was airborne in a terrifying tornado and I was untouched in the midst. That was how I discovered the first of the side effects, my ability to manipulate air. If there are more, they've yet to reveal themselves. I'm still having a hard enough time controlling the one. Menzel had fled the scene and Cap had come investigating the mayhem next morning. That was how I got involved with this crew.

So, now as I stepped off the building, I called the already swirling air to me, using it as a parachute to the ground. The journey was unsteady and at one point I was in complete freefall, but I managed to right myself before my snow shoes hit the packed ground. Streets lamps strained against night and nature to illuminate the small village. With only a sliver of the moon high overhead, no one was out and about. This was too peaceful a place for Menzel to destroy with her ambition. I kicked at a patch of chipping cobblestone with my toe and strapped my goggles back into place. I touched the scanner, but it didn't recognize my heat signature. Frost bite was probably setting in, I thought bitterly. I stuck my gloved fingers into my mouth, blowing hot air onto the appendages.

This time, the goggles blinked to life and began illustrating the map for me to reach the extraction point. I began at a light jog, leg stinging where snow seeped into the raw flesh. I would yell at Sam about that later, when he couldn't run or glide away on those stupid falcon wings.

The journey was uneventful, with only a herd of reindeer traveling through a desolate street to break the silence. The grocery store I was instructed to enter by the map was out of business. And here I'd been hoping to nab a fresh chocolate bar from the shelves.

A horn beeped from outside as our borrowed snow rover pulled up. For people who were supported entirely by Tony Stark, they do an awful lot of borrowing. I suppose after their fall out last year, Stark wasn't inclined to fund their missions any more. I dashed back out into the cold, nearly slipping and face planting on a thin sheet of ice. I saw Natasha shake her helmet without amusement. She revved the engine impatiently. I slid on, huddling closer to her for warmth. Before I was properly seated and secured, she tore off. I grappled for an anchor in her fluffy coat and finally settled into place.

"Trying to compromise the mission, kid?" She called over the wind and snow pelting down on us.

"Only on Tuesdays," I said.

"Lucky it's Friday," she replied.

I could never tell if Natasha was being sarcastic or just mean, so I did my best not to irritate her. Unfortunately, it looked like I'd already crossed that bridge today.

I was trying to will the wind out of our path, or at least encourage it to blow with us instead of directly against us—doing even a minute bit of good might ease her mood. I managed the latter for a solid minute before my control slipped. The blast of unruly wind from behind sent us careening forward, airborne and almost taking out Steve Rogers where he waited on his own snow mobile. Fortunately, he ducked and we sailed clean over his head before landing upright. Natasha whipped around, as lethal as the arachnid she was named for in that moment.

"I can't decide if you do more harm when you're deliberately trying to sabotage or when you're attempting to help."

Ok, that was deserved. I know I tended to jump into things rather blindly. I was used to it only backfiring on one person, however. I'd never had to rely on a team before. Commercial agriculture was a lonely major and an even more secluded occupation. I'd spent all my money on that farm and with it gone,all I had left was tracking down Menzel. Steve looked between us and pointed in the direction of our awaiting hut.

The drive was short and our hideout nothing more than a one bedroom clay house. The walls were padded with furs from the previous owner and the fridge was stocked to the brim with beans whose expiration dates were probably further in the future than even mine. Sam had a permanent claim on the single person bed in the far corner. Natasha and Steve hardly ever slept so that left me to camp out on the floor buried beneath mounds of fur.

The warmth it housed seeped into my gut, making the ice frozen in my hair to slick down my winter attire. I stripped it off quickly, none too keen on an ice bath, and slipped into my grey sweats and woolen jacket. Steve and Natasha did the same and spoke softly as they did so, casting glances that spanned between accusatory and pitying in my direction all the while.

I sat beside the steadily burning fire, biting back a moan as feeling returned to my fingertips. I might just give up on this whole righting of wrongs business. There were too many risks, too many rules. The bear skin beneath me felt like heaven at least and the beans we'd left on for dinner smelled divine. The walls were mounted with kills and pictures of hunts. This place had belonged to a beefy older woman who had more hair on her upper lip than Steve could grow over his whole chest. She looked happy though in the photos, I thought. At least this woman knew what she wanted in life and went for it. For myself, I was considering going back to join that herd of reindeer and becoming one with the wild.

Steve pulled up the chair with fangs hanging down from the arm rests so he could sit beside me. I could see a lecture brewing behind that stoic face. Natasha kept her distance and crossed her arms. "You were given strict orders to identify only." Steve began in his best imitation of a disappointed dad voice. "Nat and I were to take down the guards outside. You were to identify the target so Sam could bring her in. What happened?"

I tilted my head to look up at him through my thick coils of black hair. My darkly tanned islander skin glowed in the light from the fireplace. He paused for just a moment as I put on my best look of innocence. I was not as beautiful as Natasha but I knew how to distract a man. Just because Steve was Captain America didn't make him immune to bedroom eyes.

Natasha stepped in, unamused at my games. "One week ago today, you were suffocated to death in your own bed. We rescued and rehabilitated you. You were brought on this mission because Professor Menzel has no photographs online or any sort of records on file. You stepped out from behind an uncompromised hiding spot to confront her and nearly got yourself and Sam killed. Now she's escaped, knows we're coming, and is back under the protection of her guards."

I looked away, guilt gnawing at my soul almost as much as hunger clawed at my belly. I had been completely down with my small part of the mission. Throughout the few brief training sessions, during which Sam had taken me figuratively and literally under his wing, I'd learned that my upper body strength was on par with zero. I wasn't gunning to get into a fist match much less gun fight with the woman who'd killed me for approximately two minutes. I trusted this little break off group of Avengers to handle her dirty deeds appropriately. Yet, I couldn't explain the unyielding pull in my gut when I saw Menzel in person. It had dragged me from our hiding spot behind one of her multitude of bookshelves. It wasn't anger or vengeance that overpowered me, but an almost carnal instinct. Whatever she'd done had left some sort of imprint in my system, drawing me to her like a child to its birth mother. That terrified me more than any crazy powers could.

"Sorry," I submitted as explanation.

Natasha blinked, barked with laughter, then strode across the room to get as far away from me as possible. The one door pounded open and Sam strode in. He was grinning confidently as he jumped out of his gear.

"I've got some complaints to file against you," he stated with a nod towards me. "But first, I may kiss you."

"Please no," I muttered, sitting up with curiosity.

"What'd you see, Sam?" Steve questioned.

"After this one decided to blow our cover, I perused the target nearly to the southern border. That little get away plane of hers can really pick up speed. I think the storm froze a few circuits in my wings which slowed me down slightly, but I made up for it by catching the drafts coming in from the North."

"Maybe it froze Red Wing," Natasha offered dryly.

"He's tougher than all of us. Anyway," Sam directed this back to Steve, the only one with a serious expression. "I saw where she landed."

Steve sat forward, folding his hands across his knees. Even Natasha, inclined her head with interest. Neither asked the question out loud that Sam was waiting for. I raised my hand and Sam pointed to it excitedly. "Yes, pupil?"

"Is Red Wing water proof?" he frowned at the derailment, but I also saw a glimmer of amusement.

"Yes and since you're all begging for the answer, she landed Omsk."

Steve's expression grew grave and Natasha's went carefully blank.

"Yes, very significant," I said since nobody wanted to fill me on.

Natasha turned to face me, her red hair a flame in the firelight. "It's one of S.H.E.I.L.D.'s abandoned bases."

 **Little cliff hanger to leave you wondering who's really the bad guy here. ;) If you want more, you're going to have to review!**

 **Also, just so you know, I have the majority of this story finished, so if you want more literally all you have to do is beg me for it. Reviews=faster updates!**

 **~all my love**


	2. Ticket, Please

**Next chapter so soon because I am that great of a person.**

Nobody was happier than me to leave Siberia; there was a reason I'd chosen California as my home. I was meant for summer and sun not winter and darkness. Steve didn't seem to feel the cold and Natasha had grown up in Russia, so they didn't comment as we stepped out the airplane into the terminal, though bemused looks were exchanged when I moaned under the heaters above. From here, we were splitting ways. Sam was to accompany me to a safe house while Steve and Natasha made use of the wifi access in Moscow to plan their next move. They seemed glad enough to be rid of my hindrance and I was happy to be away from the line of fire.

My ticket read Central Wakanda, wherever the hell that was, and departure was a good four hours away. The name sounded familiar, but I couldn't recollect anything about the country. Sam steered us all to a burrito stand, claiming he needed to inhale grease to feel at home. They were in fact delicious and soon even Natasha was smiling and joking around. Sam was such a light spirit. It was hard to stay downcast around him.

Steve erupted in laughter at their reminiscent conversation. Sam clapped his hands, faced scrunched up as Natasha mimicked some crazed villain they're taken down. "And then he was all, I know what's best for you. I know what a girl like you wants," she said. "And I was like, I'm into some kinky stuff but ruling a world of corpses isn't one of them."

"That's my favorite part!" Sam cheered.

"I remember the look on Flag Smasher's face. You threw him off so much all it took was one hit to the back of his head with my shield and he was down," Steve finished the daring tale.

I finished off my burrito and stood to locate the bathroom. After downing that jumbo coke, my bladder was scarcely holding it together.

"Hey," Natasha called. "don't blast any small children between here and the lady's room." She offered a small twist of her mouth upward, but I don't think she was kidding.

I just nodded my obedience and wove through the hordes of people to the stalls. Though it was significantly warmer here, there was still frost in the air. I hoped Wakanda was much further south. The line was ridiculously long, stringing clear out the door. I waited and waited and dozed off at my spot leaned against the wall at one point. I only woke because of a little girl impatiently kicking at the back of my calves. I winced as it woke the nerve endings in my tightly bound leg. Loose jeans served to hide the injury, so child couldn't have known better, but still I wanted to snap at the mother to control her. Fortunately for all of us, it was now my turn to pee. The Moscow airport should consider themselves lucky because only a few seconds of waiting more and I would've just gone on their floor.

By the time I made it back to the table, Natasha and Steve had split. Sam was helping himself to a second large burrito with his legs propped against the overgrown potted bush to his left. I plopped into my chair, tugging the drawstrings of my hoodie tighter around my face. Sam's sunglasses and ball cap were evidently enough to conceal his identity from prying eyes.

"No goodbye?" I questioned.

"Steve got a phone call he had to take outside. They're just gonna head for their hotel after that. Do some recon." Sam replied. "You know Maximoff?"

"I know her name."

"Well you know she's in hiding like us. Steve got her and Barton set up without a trail and was waiting to hear back from them. They're safe. That's what she called to let him know." Sam wasn't worried about eavesdroppers. The airport was so noisy even I had trouble hearing him.

"Wasn't there two others on your team?"

Sam smiled quickly but it vanished as something sad clouded over his expression. "We lost one of them. Lang can handle himself. This isn't his first time disappearing from the radar." Sam fingered his burrito before pushing it away half finished. He was studying me, searching for a chink in my carefully constructed defenses. "What happened out there?" he asked finally. He wasn't a superior condemning my actions. He wasn't coworker suspicious of my motives. He waited until Natasha and Steve were gone so he could ask it as a friend. "One second you were cool under the pressure and the next it was like…I don't even know." He'd seen what happened but he didn't know how to explain it, but then again neither did I.

"I didn't mean to endanger us," I apologized.

"I know. I not asking for you to say any damn Hail Marys. I want to know what was going through your head."

I chewed away at my lower lip, avoiding his gaze by picking at the chipped paint on the metal table. I rocked back in my chair so that only two legs supported me. "I don't know," I muttered.

"Well, describe it as best you can."

I knew he was a PTSD counselor, but I didn't need his psychiatric radar analyzing me. "Can we not do this?"

He nodded slowly, and folded his hands on his lap. "You're not a part of this mission anymore, so I suppose not. But if you ever want to talk…"

"Yeah, thanks." I clipped off his words.

The wait for our boarding time was painfully long with only silence to fill the void between us. Our seats were on opposite sides of the plane so as not to draw too much attention. The lady beside me drooled on me in her sleep, but still she was better company than the overprotective Falcon. I kept myself busy making origami out of the safety pamphlets, sending a few airplanes sailing after the flight attendant.

When we finally landed, I practically rolled down the ramp into the small airport. The plane had been meant for only fifty people at max and only half of the seats had been filled. My back ached from being cramped for so many hours on end. I cracked a few joints as I waited for my bag at the baggage reclaim. Sam tapped my shoulder when he passed by, unnoticeable to any onlookers. I sighed and followed him out a single side door that was only slightly sketchy. It led to a side alley where a conspicuous black van idled away on the dirt road.

A black woman with a face almost as terrifying as the dense jungle that lay behind her stood in front of the vehicle. She had on a grey figure hugging suit to display her hard earned muscles and wore heels that were so sharp I wondered if they didn't double as daggers.

"Lovely to see you again, Zaire," Sam turned on his charm and extended his hand palm down towards the woman as if he expected her to kiss it.

Zaire merely huffed and opened the door to the backseat for us.

"What about our stuff?" I asked.

"It was recovered," Zaire answered simply.

Sam hopped into the blacked out SUV without hesitation and made himself comfortable by stretching out his long legs over the expanse of the leather seat. I shrugged and plopped myself down on top of his feet. Zaire shut the door tightly and slid into the driver's seat. There was a glass plane between her and us. I wondered if we were more prisoners than refugees.

"Do you mind, Haven? I'm losing feeling," Sam complained, wiggling his toes in his running shoes.

"Least it's not from frostbite," I said and he barked with short laughter. Zaire glanced back as if annoyed by the intrusive sound.

"Well, we're in the middle of Africa, so I hope not."

"How long are you staying?" I asked softly. I did not relish the idea of being dropped off with complete strangers no matter how much Steve's team trusted them.

"A day. Maybe two. Depends how long it takes me to talk with T'challa."

"T'challa, as in the King of Wakanda?" Now I know where I'd heard of this country before. Its King had played a role in the recent inner battles of the Avengers. "As in the Black Panther?" I only knew about the schism from what Steve told me my first day during debriefing. T'challa's name had come up more than a few times.

"He knows more than a little something about self control. He agreed to hide you on the condition that you train every day. Oh, also, if you're discovered he's throwing you under the bus. Saying you broke in and threatened him."

"Liar. Steve worships this dude's nobility. He wouldn't do that to his guest."

"You're no fun, Haven. Roll over and take the punches."

I flipped him off and Sam reclaimed his feet, propping them on my lap instead of under my ass. "You'll be safe here. We'll take care of Menzel."

I nodded, twirling the end of my long braid between my fingers. The van hit a pothole that nearly sent my head careening into the roof. Sam's heavy legs kept me in place. Turns out he was good for something.

"Off road," Zaire warned too late.

I leaned to peer out the front window as we surged headfirst into the suffocating jungle. Trees rose up from every angle. Roots and vines reached greedily towards our tires. Zaire somehow managed to avoid every obstacle, however without even taking off her heels. She glanced back while swerving us around a tree to look at Sam. Guess his flirting hadn't gone unnoticed. She scowled at where his feet lay and cut the wheel sharply to make a hard turn. I was thrown against the sliding door and I think I saw a smirk ghost across her features.

I smacked Sam for getting me into trouble and tapped against the glass. Sam had his eyes shut, appearing asleep and almost relaxed by the chaotic driving. "You can have him," I called. More frowning was the response.

"Hu?" Sam murmured drearily.

I pushed his head back down and went back to gawking out the window. Wakanda was a wild place, but there was something almost serene about how the sparse human houses fit in seamlessly with the trees. They didn't cut down nature as it suited them. They cohabitated the land with the jungle. Zaire startled a nesting flock of birds and they flew towards the sky, telling that there was indeed blue above the canopy of trees.

Three back to back sharp right turns and they lurched to a stop. Sam was sent careening to the floor, barely stirred from his snoring state. Zaire was out and opening the door before I could even unbuckle. She offered a peaceful hand towards me which I took after understandable consideration. Once I was helped down to the grassy lawn, she gave it a squeeze. "It was not Sam Wilson's beauty I was looking to," Zaire said.

My cheeks actually flushed with the flattery. I wish I was attracted to girls. Zaire would've been an interesting hook up at least during my stay. All power, no attachment. I could use something simple.

Sam stumbled from the car, knocking his fist against my cheek as he stretched and yawned annoyingly. I wished we still had training lessons so I'd have an opportunity to humanely beat his ass.

"Woah," Sam murmured, drawing my attention to the white palace before us that literally sparkled in the twilight. "Steve didn't say he got you a room in the palace. I thought the King would be keeping you in some no nonsense shack."

"The friends of Captain America are afforded the highest honor by his Majesty," Zaire said.

"Sure you have to leave tomorrow?" I wagged my eyebrows at Sam and skipped forward a few steps.

Sliding glass doors opened soundlessly for me after a red light flashed in my face and nearly blinded me. Zaire strolled stoically behind, hands folded behind her back like a composed soldier. Sam whistled, and rubbed his hand over a golden orb that sat at a welcome desk. The secretary behind it scowled similarly to Zaire and obviously fought off the urge to use the ornamental spears on the wall as weapons. I fell in line behind Zaire who knew where we were going and Sam jogged to walk beside me. His light brown eyes were wide, taking in more riches than our combined lifetimes had shown us.

"I lived in a trailer until I enlisted," he whispered, suddenly conscious of how the pristine white walls carried even the smallest of voices.

"I spent most nights in a barn because I liked the cows better than my family," I replied.

Zaire stopped outside a pair of double black doors, a starling contrast to the rest of the palace. She knocked and clicked her heel against the marble flooring while waiting for an answer. I glanced apprehensively towards Sam. He didn't appear any calmer than I felt. I would find no comfort there.

There was a beep then a gush of air as the doors slid open. The air in his office was so pure I felt like I could swim in it. I swirled my hand at my side, drawing more of the cleansing molecules closer to my body.

"So you're the air manipulator?" An accented voice drew me back to the purpose of this office—to house a King.

The air in my palm spun into a tight ball of visible tension. I squashed it, blowing Sam sideways a bit. T'challa and Zaire were completely unruffled. Maybe it came with being a Wakanda native. He stood in a baby blue suit being a desk carved with images that appeared almost religious. He donned a handsome smile meant to win over hundreds of hearts in seconds and it sure worked on me. Now I see why Steve trusted him so entirely.

"You've been holding out on us, man." Sam offered his hand which T'challa shook firmly. "I've been researching this new gear for my landings. Shock absorbers for my knees. You know I'm not as agile as I used to be and I was thinking…"

"Is this the purpose of your accompaniment? To partake of my wealth?"

"Well, it'd be a nice bonus to our friendship."

T'challa smiled tolerantly and turned towards Haven once again. "I am King T'challa," he said though he had to know she already knew that. "You are Haven Rosales. I welcome you to my country."

 **Comments, concerns, love, not love? Let me hear your lovely voices!**


	3. Please Remain Seated

**Mooooooore. What do you guys think of Haven? I love her friendship with Sam, but I already have an idea of who she's gonna end up with, though he hasn't entered the story yet ;) Let me know your opinions! I'm always open to new thoughts!**

I had this friend in college who, not matter the time of day or night, would without fail be craving bacon. After my breakfast in bed served by none too ugly man servants, I knew I'd just discovered the bacon that must have converted him. I was now a firm believer in all the crispy, fattening holy experiences it offered. After extracting myself from the duvet that seemed to be made up entirely of clouds plucked straight from the heavens, I slid under the sinfully hot streams of water in the two person shower. I don't know who the King of Wakanda expected me to bring in my shower with me, but it was nice that he'd thought to present the option at least. I scrubbed my body raw, taking care around the newly healed scab covering the front of my shin. Even the soap smelled of angel breath. People say Thor is a god, but I'm not entirely certain T'challa isn't too.

I let the silver satin bathrobe meld to my body afterwards; it was so light I still felt naked. My bed was now neatly made and an envelope rested on it. How romantic. It was from someone I did not know, but it listed out my schedule for the day with painfully accurate details that didn't leave a minute untouched. Sadly, none of those minutes included seeing the dazzling King again. Even worse, I had to eat both lunch _and_ dinner with Sam. Now that I was here, I no longer wanted him hovering over my shoulder. I was content to slink off into this role and let myself drown in the luxuries.

Sadly, my Zhen master required my presence on the roof in ten minutes. I slicked my wet curls back into a bun and pulled on the attire left hanging in my open wardrobe. White leggings and a long white tunic that had a matching sash to tie about my waist. There were no shoes provided, so I padded barefoot out of my room praying they didn't expect me to eat in this. If so, they were just asking for the dry cleaning bill to sky rocket.

I located the stairs at the end of my hallway and followed them all the way up. Next time I'm seeking out the elevator because fifteen flights of stairs was entirely too much of a work out for my weak ass. I was already sweating before I stepped out onto the sleek tiles covering the roof. The humid air stuck to my pores, making breathing even more difficult. A girl appearing even younger than myself sat dangling her feet over the edge.

"Don't sit, Haven," she called in a sing song voice without turning her head away from the endless view.

I stopped walking, and cracked my knuckles. "Aright, so are we doing some meditating? Opening a few chakras?"

"Just stand," she said. The light breeze caught at her long twists of hair lazily.

"Ok, but I just climbed all those stairs. Can I maybe take a break before we start all the cryptic assignments?"

"No break. No talking."

Well this was going to get boring fast. How was this supposed to help me reign in my powers? Still, I decided to play nice so King T'challa wouldn't decide my purpose was better served as meat for his pet panthers I suspected he had lurking around here somewhere. By the time the sun indicated noon, my legs were sore and stiff and I felt more likely to blast that little girl from the roof than to do anything actually productive or beneficial towards society.

Sam was already at the table when I arrived smelling worse than the wildlife. He wrinkled his nose and shielded his lunch of red looking noodles from me. I sat across from him, downing the entire glass of water before I let my head collapse against the place-mat.

"Learn a lot?" Sam inquired.

"Shit ton," I replied.

Slurping noodles answered my dry humor.

"What'd you and the Panther King talk about?" I attempted to pick up my noodles only to have it slip free of the fork right onto my lap almost like I'd practiced the manuever.

"Some research he's been doing for us. Are you planning on actually eating any of the noodles little Haven?"

I sat back, crossing my arms with a defiant huff. Sam snorted into his food and rolled his eyes. "You didn't have to stand in the fucking sun for hours on end!" I snapped.

"You didn't agree with Hasina's methods then?" T'challa asked as he entered the room at a casual stroll. He wore grey slacks today sans the matching blazer. His tie was loosened and his serene expression from only yesterday had faded into something resembling dismay. Was it something regarding his country or did it involve the topics he and Sam excluded me from?

"Oh, is that her name? She never bothered to tell me." Grumbling to the King probably wasn't in my best interest, but I'd yet to coax any food in my irritable stomach. If it wasn't happy, no one would be.

"I can join you tomorrow if it would help. I usually do my mornings sessions with Hasina before the sun, but if you prefer…"

"Yes!" I didn't hide my excitement. He would provide an adequate distraction from the tedious task.

"Excellent. I'll shift my schedule." T'challa clapped his hands and sat at the chair at the head of the table. "Are you enjoying Wakanda?"

"What's your citizenship process? Because I'm never leaving."

T'challa smiled without it reaching his eyes and waved off his own course of the meal. "Mr. Wilson, I have your ticket back to Moscow waiting on your bed. Zaire will be driving you back to the airport right after dinner."

"Oh, wonderful." Sam smiled confidently. I hadn't found the courage to burst his bubble yet about the body guard's preferences.

I was a perfect lady the rest of the meal, if you disregarded the time I accidentally tripped a servant. T'challa was physically present, but his eyes were glued to the messages he typed out on his tablet. He was truly a fountain of power. it flowed from him into the atmosphere and I drank it in, hoping it would aid my own abilties. I shook my head, realizing Sam had been speaking. "Hu?" I muttered. He wouldn't give me grief about my being star struck. I could see T'challa had the same overwhelming effect on him; I suspect most people felt similarly around the King. The man was born to be a leader. He could instill fear and loyalty without even batting an eye. It was unnerving yet fascinating.

"I asked what's on your schedule for this afternoon."

"Tests." I made a face at the thought of needles thicker than my arm aimed at me.

"I'm free. Need a hand to hold?"

"I'm gonna tell Cap your cheating on him," I warned.

"Our relationship is very open." Sam waved me off good-naturedly.

T'challa glanced up, having picked up on at least that bit of the conversation. "I'm sorry. Are congratulations in order? I was not informed you were dating the Captain."

I nearly choked on my drink and Sam worked his jaw, debating whether or not to add another sarcastic comment and fuel the confusion or help out his King. Finally, he settled on, "Sadly he has yet to accept my offer, just like some people." Pointed glances were sent to me then Zaire who stood as the silent brooding body guard in the corner. "Which means he's single, if you're interested."

If T'challa's skin wasn't so sumptuously dark, I think he might have blushed. Maybe Steve Rogers had the same effect on him that the King had on the rest of the world. "I have no time for affairs of the heart," T'challa replied simply. He excused himself to go deal with "matters of state."

Sam polished off his silverware with a hungry tongue before scurrying to my side. "So, that wasn't a no exactly."

I hit his arm and wiped off my tunic as best I could. Sam unzipped his jacket, because he was unfairly permitted to wear his own clothing, and offered it to me. I accepted only because I didn't want the fancy scientists thinking I was a waste of their time on the very first day; that's more of a day five impression at minimum. The comfy black material fell halfway down my thighs smelling distinctly of the West and covering the multitude of stains I'd managed to acquire before noon. As extravagant as this all was, I found myself craving my home country, where the worst thing that happened was an unexpected hurricane. I should never have moved to California. I should never have invested in that goddamn farm.

The lab was located in the basement and smelled as if they'd lathered the walls with disinfectant. Machines I couldn't begin to identify whirled away. Some looked as if they could fit entire bodies inside them. I was praying for a mere needle now. I trusted humans more than technology. An old woman bustled over, smiling indulgently at us. She swept a hand through loose waves of hair styled in a boyish cut. The roots were tinting white while the tips remained a steely grey. Her pale skin almost blended in to the stark white walls.

"You're my new toy?" she extended a hand with a teasing glint to faded green eyes. Thick goggles sat on the end of a narrow, upturned nose.

Sam chuckled at my side, so I elbowed him. "You just need blood, right?"

"A few fingers and toes. Nothing you'll miss." She paused at my horrified expression and waved her hands about to clear the air. "I'm only jesting, love. We'll start simple. Hair, skin cells, a few syringes of blood. Just enough to give us an idea what we're looking for."

"You're going to reverse it?" Sam asked.

"We'll try to in our free time. Mostly, we're just hoping to understand it. Enhanced individuals have been a specialty of mine since before I was trained to use the loo. We're still working on the cryo patient Captain Rogers requested…"

Sam cleared his throat. She'd been about to mention their little secret. "Right, well. Let's hop to it, then." The doctor instructed. "I'm afraid I'll have to escort you out, Samuel. No room for tag-alongs down here."

"No need for excuses here, Sally. If you wanted to get me alone, all you had to do was ask."

"You little minx," Sally pinched his cheek and led him back up the stairs.

I shifted on my toes, wondering where to go. There were only about five other individuals in the room, each enraptured in his or her task. I meandered down the center path, past the desks cluttered with microscopes, notes, and textbooks older than Captain America himself. There was a hallway veering off to the left. The smell in the air coming from it reminded me of the Siberian winter. It snuck past the layers of Sam's jacket and my thin shirt to raise goosebumps on my skin. I curled my bare toes and took a step in. These walls were heavy metal and absorbed even the faintest sounds. I had a feeling if thebulletproof door at the end of the hall was closed, the corridor would be entirely soundproof. It felt like a meat locker, though I was unsure what they could possibly need all this space for.

I came across a mannequin first; it was missing one arm. Tables further down were littered with unused syringes and crumpled notes. An old computer clicked away on the furthest desk with numbers in a language I couldn't even recognize. The further in I ventured, the colder it got. There was some strange sort of box tucked away at the very end of it, a layer of ice hiding its contents from my view. Was this their top secret project?

"I'd have thought you learned your lesson, love. Wasn't it just last week when the science you got involved in, yet did not understand, took a bite out of your arse?" Sally's voice came from behind me.

"Went for the throat, actually. A lot more lethal."

I turned and trudged from the hallway. Sally sealed it after our exit and pointed me to an examination hidden in a little alcove in the far back right of the room. A painting of an ocean hung on the wall. I recognized my Atlantic without needing to read the title. "Painted that when I lived in England."

"I'm from Costa Rica," I told her.

She swabbed an antiseptic wipe over the vein in the crook of my elbow. The needle she produced was small enough and her reassuring squeeze of my arm kept my nerves at ease. The procedures took all of thirty minutes, though my schedule had allotted up to three hours. So I sat back and watched Sally work. She handed me a print out of my charts from her first test. High cholesterol. Low iron. Nothing unusual from my normal physical checkups. A spinning hour glass in the center of her computer screen stalled her work process. She turned, pulling her goggles down to nibble their end in thought.

"You're not asking questions," she observed.

I shrugged innocently.

"Which means you already know the answers. You know what's back there." She nodded down the secluded hallway.

Ok, she was good. "You have someone in cryofreeze. I didn't know that was real. Are you trying to wake him up?"

"No. that's not the problem."

"Is he dangerous then? Is he like me? Is that what you'll do to me if I start spiraling?"

Instead of answering me, Sally directed a different question my way. "I never said it was a male."

I blinked, startled at the point. It hadn't been a guess. Somehow, I had known that was a man in there. I shook my head, unsure how to explain the insight. Sally, stood and began rummaging through one of the multitude of filing cabinets lining the walls. "Close your eyes," she called.

"No thanks?"

Sally cut her eyes at me, brimming with a new energy. Maybe she wasn't about to knock me out and throw me in the cryo chamber with the mysterious man. I reluctantly closed my eyes and waited for whatever surprise she had. I heard her flats dance over to me and felt her breath too close to my face. She smelled of lemon tea and plastic gloves. Her hasty breathing told me her lungs were working quickly to keep up with her excitement.

"What am I holding?" she asked.

I furrowed my brow, frowning deeply. "How the hell am I supposed to know?"

"Just like you did with Sergeant Barnes. Focus on the air surrounding the object. Use it as an extension of your fingers."

"Barnes?" I opened my eyes curiously.

"Blast! I've never been good at secrets." She threw the stuffed lion back to her desk.

"I was not about to guess that," I informed her. I hadn't even known she was holding something until she told me.

"You weren't supposed to guess. You should just know. Maybe it has to be alive for your abilities to work. Close your eyes. Wait here."

As if I was about to wander anywhere with my eyes shut. As I pondered which wild animal Sally would return with—probably a bird that would poop on my attire, further dirtying it—my mind drifted back to the man in the hall: Barnes. The name was not familiar, yet his condition was important enough to Steve for him to send one of his vital team members down for an update on it; he must be very concerned about the threat Barnes presented. The happenings within the palace walls were just as dangerous as the jungle it shielded us from.


	4. A Little Turbulence

It wasn't just a dream. I felt it, or I heard it rather. There was an almost imperceptible shift in the still night air of the palace. It hurled me from my blissful dream involving chocolate smeared on top of chocolate abs which totally did not belong to a certain King of Wakanda. I sat up perfectly straight for ten straight minutes before I could quiet my breathing enough to hear again. Only the nocturnal animals outside my window chattered away. Everyone else was asleep. Well, one person always was. I put on my satin robe more for dramatic effect than decency. My pjs of pink panties and a plain black tank top were more than sufficient enough for all I cared, I just liked the majestic material flowing behind me as I padded down the endless flights of stairs.

The lab scanner recognized my face as a subject and allowed me entrance easily. The motion activated lights flickered to life and I squinted to get my bearings. I slid into Sally's desk, giving her chair a good spin at least twice before I swiped the key card from her top drawer where I'd seen her stash it at the end of our nonproductive session. She'd presented me with animals ranging from live monkies to harmless worms. None of which I'd been able to identify with my eyes shut. I don't think my ability worked like that. I wasn't connected to life. I'd died and come back. I think I was more in tune with the shadows lingering in this world and Barnes was nothing if not a ghost—stuck somewhere between this world and the next.

I was glad for my fluffy slippers against the chill in the secure hallway Sally's badge gave me access to. I shifted on my bare legs to keep blood flowing to them. Whatever had woken me had originated in this room. I grabbed the wooden chair, scraping it over the ground and plopping on the hard surface once it was directly in front of the Sargent. The container had an eerie effect post sunset, but I suppose the night was always creepy when hauntings took place.

"Are you dreaming?" I asked. "Can you dream? That's probably how you entertain yourself. Do you dream of warm beaches and sunburns? That's what I would imagine if I were stuck in there indefinitely."

No response. I don't know I'd hoped for one. I crossed my legs and rested my hands on a knee each with the palms up. I called the air to be still, freezing it in position much like it was inside the cryo chamber. I just wanted to feel what he was feeling. I wanted to know why I was drawn down here. A distant memory of his slipped through the void, settling against my lungs to relive it. A hearty laugh, taking up the entire body. Glee swelling his chest with happiness.

My control slipped and the feeling went with it. Was he trying to communicate? Was it just an unconscious thing? I strode forward, crouching to read the baffling language encoding the control mechanism.

I knew I couldn't let him out, but I also couldn't bring myself to leave him. With Sam gone—after a begrudgingly heartfelt goodbye—I suppose I had no other friends here to keep me company. I dashed back into the lab, grabbing one of the safety blankets from the emergency wall panel and sat back in my chair. Bundled under my robe and the additional blanket and with the strangely comforting presence of a frozen man across from me, I managed to fall back into unconsciousness .

When I woke there was a permanent crick in my neck and an annoying watch on my wrist informing me I was late for my first session with T'challa. I waved farewell to my companion drearily and trudged back up the stairs. All black was laid out on my bed for me today. Hopefully that meant my lesson with T'challa would be a complete 180 from yesterday.

Up on the roof, Hasina was in a perfect handstand while T'challa lay perfectly still on his back. Well, I knew which position I preferred, frankly i'd do any position with the King, but that was beside the point. Hasina lowered herself on silent feet, peering through slanted eyes up at me.

"Your turn," she instructed.

I actually laughed. I would more likely break my neck than accomplish a real handstand. Hasina shook her head slightly and pointed to the spot she'd just occupied. "Stand," she said.

I groaned and looked to T'challa for help. "Do you want to learn or not?" he asked.

"Ok, I'll stand. But what am I supposed to be doing exactly? Meditating? Thinking about my childhood, which was actually pretty fabulous by the way. I just…everything's always fallen into place for me. I've never felt the need for control."

T'challa sat up then, folding his hands into his lap. "What is air?" he asked.

The overabundance of vague happenings on this roof were dizzying. I swayed on my feet slightly as the early morning wind picked up. The sky was a lovely dark blue. On the horizon, teal colored the edges as the sun steadily rose.

"Um, you breathe it. It's—I don't know. It's everywhere."

"I don't want you to control the air, Haven. I want you to control yourself. Air is a free spirit. It goes where it wills. A human cannot move the air any more than I can bend vibranium. When I put on that suit, it's a part of me. We move as one. I want you to imagine the air around you as your own sort of suit. I want you to wrap yourself in it. Become part of it, because if you are the air, then it will move with you."

"That's why I'm standing on a roof? To become one with the air?"

T'challa dipped his head in a nod.

"Why couldn't Hasina just tell me that?" I grumbled.

Though we didn't speak after that, T'challa's presence was good for my focus. He was such a steady and assured person it leaked into me. By the time the sun was fully in the sky, I was ready to be an air warrior. goddess or whatever T'challa called breakfast break and I happily skipped after him down the stairs. The meal was pleasant, and the bacon provided further fueled my addiction. Of course, he had Kingly business to attend to, so I was once again left alone.

I wandered around the palace for a bit before finding myself in the garden outside. A stone arch rose up, wrapped in ivy and scarlet flowers. The dirt path was hard and flat from the multitude of travelers. To the right were tables and chair made of wrought iron painted white. Many people milled about them, some in rags, some dressed in finer clothes than T'challa. There were no walls, so it must be open to the public.

I went left, towards the older trees that rose up and hung over the path. The walkway was lined with monkey grass that scratched at my ankles. The thick atmosphere kept wrapping itself around my throat making it hard to breathe; I was used to heat, but this air hung heavy with moisture. Rounding a path that led me closer to the jungle, I caught sight of a pair of gold sneakers—exactly the pair Menzel wears. Gold for excellence, sneakers for practicality. They disappeared around the bend further ahead.

Stumbling on my once sure footing, I began to sprint after her. The bend led to the end of the garden and out into the densely overgrown jungle. Menzel wasn't running. She stood at the base of a tree, stroking the trunk with her pale white hands. "You're supposed to be dead," she murmured without turning around.

"You made sure that wasn't a possibility!" I spat back.

She turned with the fierce wind skirting around her. It didn't ruffle the loose pinstripes pants or the golden scarf wrapped around her throat. She was dressed exactly as I had seen her in Siberia. Hazel eyes that bordered on matching her shoes in the morning light assessed me; a scientist with her experiment.

"How are you here?" I demanded. Surely Captain America's team couldn't have lose her completely. They were more competent than that.

"I'm not," she said, tilting her head to the side. "I'm in your mind."

"You can read my mind?" My hands flew up protectively around my head as if that could prevent her from getting inside it.

"I'm not the monster here, Haven. I'm only here because you imagined me. If you didn't want me then I would happily go. I do not cherish our time together."

"That's called guilt," I clipped. I didn't want to see her. She had to be screwing with me. There was no way I was crazy enough to start imagining people and having full-fledged conversations with them.

"Yes, guilt for what I did not succeed in." Menzel took a step closer, her petite frame a smudge against the towering trees around us.

"You mean killing me? Look, I'll stay out of your way. You can have the Genysis. I won't tell anyone you gave it to me. You can be the first immortal. Just leave me be."

She laughed softly. "The serum I gave you is too unpredictable for more human testing much less on myself. I had hoped its effect was weak enough that I could put you down without incident. I expected some changes in your basic DNA sequence naturally, but what I found wasn't…you're not human anymore, Haven. I am so sorry."

"Maybe you shouldn't have made me a Guinea Pig."

"Maybe you shouldn't have taken it without asking!" she snapped right back.

My stomach hit the dirt. She was lying. She had to be. There was no way I would do something so stupid, and I did an astonishing amount of stupid things. I shook my head quickly, feeling the wind pick up. Shit, was that me? A branch flew wildly between us, torn from the top of a great tree. Menzel's eyes followed, wary and full of regret.

"You're a side effect, Haven. The first time I knew was the night you destroyed the barn. It was almost impossible to get close to you and by the time I did, all of my research was destroyed. Yes, I tried to kill you. I had to in order to stop the madness."

"My powers started after you smothered me!" I shouted because it had to be true. It had to. This was all her fault. Not mine. Not _mine._

"Did they?" she smiled not unkindly, with pity even gracing her features. "Look around, Haven. This is what you do. I have to undo what I created."

The pressure bottomed out and the sound of a roaring train smacked me from behind. I hit the ground, tearing open my palms. When I looked up, Menzel was gone and a tornado had taken her place. My own scream mixed with those emanating from the garden as it meandered almost lazily towards the palace. My pulse was an anvil slamming into my ears, drowning out even the sounds of the horrific storm threatening to cleave this country clear in half. My heart was a hallow opening in my chest, unable to pinpoint any single emotion-so i felt them all at once.. I watched in horror as another tornado touched down to my right. It quickly fell in line with its brother.

I squeezed my eyes shut, entire body shaking, but it wasn't from the storm. You're not afraid, Haven. You are not what she said you are. My silent pep talk was almost lost in the deafening rumbles of the storm I'd created. My throat was tight like I might start crying instead of doing anything productive. I shoved that feeling aside, forcing the muscles to relax. I needed as much air as I could get. I filled myself with it; I wrapped my body in it. I imagined T'challa beside me coaching me through the process. Maybe I wasn't human anymore, maybe I was _air_. And right now, I would make that work in my favor.

I grinned as one of the storms vanished, but felt my heart deadpan when it reappeared heading towards the village this time. Just shit.

Feet hit the ground beside me silent as death coming to stake its claim. I glanced up to see the Black Panther in full costume. He knelt in front of me and pulled off his mask. T'challa wore an expression as mysterious as his jungle. Most of it I couldn't read, but there was one emotion that I knew everyone must be experiencing right now due to me—fear. I felt it too. It felt like that goddamned pillow slamming down on my face over and over again, strangling what control I had out of me.

"Stop this," T'challa spoke calmly, though his hands were fisted at his sides.

"Go ahead, Haven," Menzel was back. This time she was in the lab coat she sometimes slept in on the farm. T'challa did not budge at the voice; he couldn't hear it. "Tell him what you are," she said.

Tears slid down my cheeks now as I sat watching the destruction helplessly.

"I'm sorry," T'challa spoke before slamming his fist into the side of my face. Blackness took over instantly.

 **Thanks for hanging with me, you guys! Our favorite metal-armed will be featured in the next chapter. I know you are all very excited for that.**


	5. Buckle Up

**Guess who is finally here! My precious James Barnes! Please send him your love.**

I woke up back on the experimentation table in the basement. Thoughts came swirling back with nauseating force—memories of what Menzel had said. I shoved them away. They had to be lies. I wasn't the bad guy here. There was an IV drip pushing some sort of sedative into my arm. It made opening my eyes increasingly difficult, like it was pumping them full of led. Once I opened them, I squinted under the overhead florescent lighting. The small motion sent pain lacing into my cheekbone. Jesus, T'challa packed a punch. I sat up, waiting for the world to stop flipping itself upside down or for my stomach's inside to present itself. I groaned and pried at the needle.

"Maybe don't do that," a voice came from Sally's desk. A man wrapped in a lab coat sat in her swivel chair with his knees pulled to his chest.

"It's making me sick, Doc. Help a girl out?" I extended my arm between us.

The man cocked his head, long dark hair falling into sky blue eyes. He glanced down at the white coat he wore and nodded in understanding. "I'm not a Doctor," he said quickly.

"Little early for Halloween then. Or is it dress up day for what you want to be in ten years?"

His lips quirked up and a hesitant smile eased his guarded expression. He was quite handsome. I hadn't seen him around the palace, but that didn't mean anything. The palace was bigger than all the land on my farm combined.

"They left you here to guard me then?"

"It's been an easy job so far," he said.

"Was anyone hurt?" I asked softly. I swung my legs to the ground, grazing my bare toes over the cold tiles.

"Just you. Everyone else took cover. Power went off for a day or so. I think that's what King T'challa is off handling."

"A day?!" my voice skipped up an octave. Had I really been asleep that long?

"Or so," the man allowed. He craned his neck about. "I don't know precisey. There's not a clock down here. The computers are completely fried too."

I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to wrap my mind around all of what he was saying. My fingers were little icicles against the feverish skin. Why was it so cold in here? "How can you not know how long it's been?" I questioned.

"The dame in charge didn't tell me and she locked the door when she left. She left food, though. I ate all of it," he admitted a little sheepishly. "Can't remember the last time I had steak and I didn't know if you were going to wake up. Even I could tell she set that sedative drip on an insane dosage and my medicinal knowledge was mainly learned in the field."

"That was Doctor Sally," I told him. He was just as in the dark as me. He was acting like a patient. My eyes darted behind him suddenly. The door to the cryo hallway hung ajar. That's where the chill was coming from. He wasn't here to guard me. We were both being contained. Two unknown dangers locked together. If we killed each other, there was no loss. This wasn't a hospital. It was a prison. "Sergeant Barnes?" I asked in a low whisper.

"I guess." He stretched out his long legs in their white pants, standard issue around here. He rubbed a hand over his knee, looking up at me on my stretcher from his seat. "I haven't been in the army in a few decades. Just Bucky, if you don't mind."

"What's your poison, Bucky?"

He tapped his head. "Can't trust what's in here. I…I wasn't supposed to wake up either. The cryo chamber short circuited when the power went off. I gave Doctor Sally quite the fright. She's very eccentric," he smiled fondly. "Ran out and locked the door behind her."

"If you take this needle out of my arm, will you promise not to turn around and stab me with it?"

"I'm not psychotic," he grumbled. He padded over on bare feet to examine the IV site. He pulled back the tape and blew stray strands of hair out of his eyes. "I just don't always have a say in my actions. That's why I went under."

Using only one arm, he pulled quick and effective. I hissed and pressed the fabric of my blouse into the junction of my elbow. I squeezed it tightly against my chest to stop the blood from escaping. Bucky tossed the IV into the trash and sat back in his chair. "So air? Doesn't seem so dangerous."

"You like breathing, right?"

"You can't control it. You wouldn't be in here if you could. But please try." Bucky leaned forward. He was taking amusement out of this. I supposed we had to entertain ourselves somehow until they decided what to do with us.

"Nah, I'll keep your pretty face around a while longer." I waved my hand about.

He chuckled, shifting in his chair as he did so. The coat, slung around his shoulders much like a cape, moved with him and slid down his left shoulder slightly. Metal flashed in the brilliant lighting. Strange. Prosthetic? But the coat hung rather limply off that side of his body. Was the arm missing altogether? He glanced up again, so I looked away politely.

I twisted my mouth, trying to hold my questions in. Bucky's gaze was narrowed, reading me as easily as a book with all pictures. Maybe he was trained to do so. Maybe I was just so unaccustomed to lying. Finally, he said, "Know Tony Stark?"

"I know he and Steve got divorced last year," I replied.

"They were married?" Bucky asked. Between Sam and I, we would have everyone in this palace thinking Steve was just off whoring himself instead of actually working to save the world.

"Steve's married to his job. What about Stark?" I answered shortly.

"Shot it clean off." Bucky nodded to his arm, though, he didn't take the coat off so I could see. "Well, that's how I lost it the second time. First time happened when I fell off this train into an icy valley."

"You get around," I mused.

"You know Steve? How is he? Where is he?"

"Um, Moscow last I heard. He's noble. An overbearing pain in the ass. I was only with him for like a week chasing this crazy scientist who gave me these shitty powers.

Bucky's focus was gone, drifting a hundred years into the past with memories of his friend. I wandered over to the door, tapping the glass like a fish in a bowl. A guard peered in the door with his frown deepening when he saw me. I waved with a shit eating grin and mimed food. The guard disappeared. I claimed the chair in the desk beside Bucky and rolled over to sit across from him. I propped my feet up on Sally's desk because I was very irritated with her at the moment. Not that my feet would have gotten the chance to collect any dirt in this pristine room. I didn't even blame her for trying to keep me unconscious. I'd pulled some next level fucked up stuff out there. I was more frustrated with myself. The more I thought about Menzel's story, the more I lost track of the truth I thought I knew. Everything was muddling together and the fear of being wrong was wrapping its talons around my throat.

"Don't do that," Bucky said softly.

I didn't hear him until he repeated it the second time, touching my wrist cautiously. Was he cautious of me or of what he could do? I guess I was the more unstable one at the moment.

"Whatever you're overthinking, stop. That'll kill you before anything else." He dropped his hand with that.

"I already have a Zhen master, thanks."

The door opened and Sally walked in. Before her stood two armed guards. I waved and skipped as close as they would let me without blocking my path. You almost blow over one palace and they suddenly get all defensive. I mentally rolled my eyes, while keeping a smile on my face.

"Care to explain what happened out there?" Sally asked from behind the broad shoulders blockading her.

I leaned to peer around them. "Either a psychological breakdown or a breakthrough. I saw Menzel."

"Menzel's in Omsk and didn't have any abilities last I checked." Sally was all serious faced now. There were no more jokes ready to pour out of her thin mouth. Her laugh lines were being used for a grimace today.

"Ok, but what if she does and I just uncovered it?"

"Haven!" Sally snapped.

My chatter was silenced. I folded my hands in front of me, rocking back on my heels.

"I usually enjoy your gift to let everything slide off your back, but this is not the time. Do you know the level of destruction you caused?"

"I'm sorry. I know it must be bad, but…"

"You don't know, Haven! Because we can't let you out of this room. Because we can't trust you anymore and we don't know what you're capable of."

My teeth were sunk deep in my lower lip. I tasted iron on my tongue but didn't let up the pressure.

"Then you know this room wouldn't stop her if she wanted to get out. It wouldn't stop either of us," Bucky spoke up from somewhere in the background. It wasn't a threat. It was something he was resigned to.

"I trust that neither of you mean harm. I hope you will stay here for everyone's good. It's just until the King returns, then we'll figure out what to do," Sally promised. She held out a freeze dried packet of assorted fruits. "I got your DNA results back yesterday," she said as she passed them to me, taking care not to brush my skin. "They're in your file in my desk. The results may interest you."

She scanned her badge and exited the room. I glared down at the fruit in my hand. Bucky got steak and I got healthy crap? Then again, my appetite was entirely gone. Her accusing words ricocheted around the enclosed room. I wasn't afraid of what I could do. It was a part of me that couldn't be helped. But clearly others were.

"Are there any plums in there?" Bucky asked, interrupting my mental spiral again.

DNA charts, as it turns out, are not written in English, or any other known language for that matter. It was a paper long in width that had several colors decorating it in indecipherable patterns. I squinted at the cluster of green towards the top, trying to make sense of the madness. When Sally had left, I'd dug it up immediately. I don't know what she expected me to understand from this, but I continued to stare in hopes that the answer would make itself known.

"You're not secretly a mad scientist are you?" I asked Bucky. He had taken over the examination table. His long body was stretched out, feet dangling over the edge while his right arm was propped under his head. He was careful to keep the left side of his body away from me.

"I don't know shit about DNA charts, but I love that sciency stuff."

Bucky held out his hand in the space between us expectantly. I high-fived him without raising my head. "No, darlin', the chart."

"Your terms of endearment are not welcome here, good sir. Besides, I thought you just said you couldn't read it."

"I was gonna put on a good show for you," he said with playful lips curving up.

I sighed and passed him the paper. It couldn't cause any harm, unless sequences of DNA mapping was his weird trigger. I rummaged through the rest of Sally's drawers. If she insisted on keeping us in here, then that meant nothing was off limits. I found a picture of her back in Mother England along with one of her family: three daughters and one balding husband. I wonder if they live here with her now.

With a squeal her personal drawer slid shut and I yanked open the bottom drawer containing patient profiles. There was one for T'challa followed by several names I didn't recognize. All the way to the back, shoved away like a penny found heads down, was one belonging to Mr. James Barnes. I pulled out the gangly folder, dumping the contents onto the desk.

"Maybe this blue part is for your personality," Bucky called from his research. "It's short and you don't seem like a very blue person."

I didn't respond. I was staring at a very old picture, dated well before my parents even met. Bucky looked near the same age as he had been when it was taken in the 40s, but he was grinning proudly and wore a brown military uniform. What type of moisturizer did he use to age that well? I needed to invest in some. I pushed it out of the way and pulled up an old medical record—perfect physical specimen, no known ailments. Then there was a gap in his timeline up until the present day. He was photographed in this very lab covered in fresh bruises and newly opened cuts. His mouth was pressed into a grim line and the white tank top he wore left his missing left arm in plain view.

Behind that was another chart exactly like the one I'd handed Bucky. The colors were all off, though. Where mine showed an excess of red, his was blank. In fact, nothing seemed to match up at all. From what I understand in my required Chemistry 1001 class, all human DNA had a few basic elements that were all identical. I turned to snatch my chart from Bucky and laid it under his. They were exact opposites; not a single color aligned.

Bucky shifted to peer over my shoulder. "What does that mean?" he asked.


	6. En Route

The first thing T'challa did upon returning to his palace, was to separate me from Bucky, the first friend I'd made within his walls. The second, was an attempt to placate my already shredded nerves. Bucky kept me calm and distracted, the solitude of being locked in my room, even if it was with a full-fledged buffet lining one wall, was threatening to drive me mad.

I paced the length of the dining table that had been brought in for T'challa's "honored guest." I no longer felt like that; this place was beginning to feel more and more like a carefully disguised prison. It was isolated and well-fortified in ways I had originally deemed worthy of keeping predators out, but maybe it kept some in as well.

In my wait for anyone with information to grace me with a visit, I devoured the entire plate of sausages and half of the bread assortment. When the carved double doors of my room finally did open, it was only to reveal Zaire, King T'challa's personal body guard, not that the deadly panther needed one. She looked as agitated as I felt, one bad pitch away from breaking the bat over her knee and calling off the whole game, though she was no less presentable than normal, with her killer heels and lethal lipstick.

I pulled at the drawstrings of Sam's hoodie, which he had not reclaimed before his departure, and wrapped my arms around myself in an attempt to appear docile. My insides were a swirling storm waiting to be let loose, but I kept the reigns pulled tight. I could not afford to lose control again. So long as I kept my breath even, kept the air around me precariously still and calm, everything would be alright.

"So, what's the verdict? You gonna lock me up in a psych ward? Let Sally loose on me with scalpels and ice picks?"

"The King had made arrangements for you to be moved to a more suitable location. There are too many people here, people he is sworn to protect, for you to be kept. He trusts that with training you will become stable, but until that point you cannot be permitted to remain," Zaire spoke with a voice as unyielding as vibranium. There was no room for me to debate, only for me to accept.

"What about Bucky? Where am I going? Does Cap know? Does Sam?"

"The discovery made about the juxtaposition between your genes and Barnes' will require him to remain present. Dr. Sally has high hopes that the chemicals in your system will serve as a reversal of what was done to him by Hydra forces all those years ago. As for your accommodations, you will be moved into trusted hands. A close friend of the Captain, Clint Barton. He has with him another individual of unique abilities that we feel will be better equipped to train you. The Captain is out of contact at the moment along with all his companions. Will there be anything else?"

My jaw a bear trap—once opened I was afraid it would come back to bite me in the ass. Still, I had to know. "Could you inquire about my father? Before, when Menzel was here, or when I saw her, she said something about him being ill. I need to know if that is true."

Zaire' shaved head tilted to the side, dark brow knotting as her calculating eyes assessed me. Her hands, folded with diligent care behind her back came to rest tensely at her sides. "I thought you knew," she said.

"Evidently not. That would be why I'm asking. What's wrong with him? Is it something that can be treated? If he is sick, then can I see him before I'm shipped off to superhero boot camp?"

"Haven, your father is dead. He died three weeks ago."

The food I'd consumed in agitated boredom, threatened to resurface. I sat down on the tiles chilled by the dutifully working air conditioner. My chest throbbed dully like she'd just placed a well-aimed kick to it. Something resembling alarm flashed in her midnight eyes and she pressed a button on her phone. She squatted down, getting on eye level with me. She was afraid I would lose it again, that I would take down this whole palace with me in a self-deprecating whirlwind. But everything was at a perfect standstill. My lungs didn't even burn, though I'd yet to breathe since she began her sentence with that pitying tone.

The door was so well oiled, and T'challa so light-footed that no sound indicated him entering the room. The shift in the atmosphere told me, though. He must have been who she contacted via her phone. I was having a hard time deciphering who protected who. Maybe it was a mutual partnership.

 _Dead._

My easily distractible mind couldn't stop replaying that word. Denial was my specialty, but if it was a river as some people claimed, then I would surely drown.

T'challa squatted down beside Zaire, tapping her shoulder in a silent tag-in. She stood and strode over to the corner of the room where a watchful eye was easiest and an intervention was at the ready.

"Stand up," he instructed, his voice a low purr of ease. If he was worried about my mental state he didn't show it. Then again, the King was more than skilled at handling affairs of state by now.

My glare down was not enough to return feeling to my sprawled legs. Perhaps I was the dead one. If I didn't breathe soon, I certainly would be. So, Menzel wasn't completely full of shit. If I had taken the serum of my own volition, my dad is one of the two people in this world I would do it for. But I was too late; he was dead. My last week with Menzel was kind of fuzzy because of the trauma endured, but I should not be able to forget something that vital. He was my dad. My dad was dead.

The luxurious room, I'd once adored now only held bland background colors and images. The fragrance of food did not turn my insides or cause my stomach to growl. Everything not essential was shut out. T'challa and Zaire were just hiccups in the still sea I'd created to surround me. The plush carpet that felt like a lover's tender kiss on my feet the first time I'd felt it was nonexistent now. Blinders were in place and the only thing I saw was my last memory of my father—of his dopey grin and ridiculous drunken rhetoric.

I rose like a zombie from its grave; I had about as many emotions as the walking dead might. My purpose was set. Before I'd been a leaf in the wind, letting others carry me about deciding my fate. Now, I was the oncoming storm. Hasina was right. This position was optimal for thought and control.

"So, when do I leave?" I asked.

An uncertain glanced passed between T'challa and Zaire. "It is a great distance. My personal jet will fly you. No government can track it, not even my own. Whenever you feel well enough to travel, you may go."

"Tonight," Zaire clipped.

"Tonight," I agreed. The sooner I got away from the watchful eyes of the King's court, the sooner I could put my plan into action.

A nod of somewhat hesitant approval came from the dark skinned man. "Very well. I will make the arrangements." With a polite excuse, he left the room.

Zaire's hardened onyx eyes were fixed on me. I returned the gaze with the dead weight in my chest where my heart used to beat away vibrantly. She was not afraid of me. She didn't pity me. She would kick my ass if it came down to it. So, I would keep her on my side for now. I would play the obedient pet.

"You're not okay," she stated.

"No," I admitted. I would show her only this card; the rest of my hand would remain pressed flush to my chest. "But may I have the room anyway?"

"I'll be outside."

The door slammed shut behind Zaire's powerful presence. Pivoting on my heel, I strode toward my wardrobe to pack my meager assortment of personal items. I would go to this Clint Barton's. He and the other super were in hiding, so their security would be minimal—anything to detract from attention. Their containment I could shake. Menzel may be running from Cap, but I was still her subject. I was still the only person who could help her further her research. And she was the only one who could help me bring my dad back. If Genysis could give me everlasting life, then surely it could be altered enough to restore it.

* * *

What my farewell party lacked in people, it made up for in extravagance. King T'challa's jet was something straight out of the royal vault with its sleek black wings and sharp lines made it appear as if there were no bolts holding it in place. It looked like the metal had simply grown into this formation. Only the lulling rotation of the engines told me it was a working plane. T'challa introduced the pilot, subtly stressing that the man, though elderly and with more liver spot than trees in the jungle, could literally eject me from the plane should I become a problem. Zaire was not present at my departure.

As T'challa turned to give the pilot further last minute instructions, a voice came from behind me.

"Thought you could sneak off?"

Bucky stood at the edge of the landing strip with a blinking bracelet on his wrist, probably monitoring his vitals. He could roam at his own will, though there was probably something in there that could drop him like a bag of bricks if the need arose.

"Didn't want your ugly mug to be the last thing I saw here," I teased.

He padded over, gnawing at his inner cheek. Today he wore only a white tank top, revealing the missing appendage on his left. The metal was capped off with some sort of black cover. Bucky was fully aware of his disability being out in the open, but he still forced himself closer. "Can I tell you something?"

"We're probably not going to see each other again, so go for it."

His right hand reached out, catching at my palm, running his calloused thumb over the smooth surface. A dry wind that did nothing to relieve the oppressive heat, snagged at his long hair, tugging locks free from his carefully constructed bun. They fell into eyes that mirrored the coloring of the cloudless sky above. "I knew you. Before I woke up, I mean. I didn't know who you were exactly, but I saw you unconscious on that table and it felt familiar somehow."

"Well, I did watch you sleep for a little bit, so…"

"That's fucking creepy, Haven. What the hell?" he laughed lightly then noticed my own smile didn't remotely reach my eyes.

"Haven," Bucky tugged harshly on my arm as his dropped his voice to a murmur so that not even the cat ears of the King could hear over the jet turbines. "I know it's hard to let someone you love go. And I can see that you're about to something really reckless because of what happened to your dad. I've been there. It doesn't end well."

"Thanks Jiminy Cricket." I stood on my tiptoes to kiss his scruffy beard gently. "Reckless is kind of my thing, though." Bucky was the only one who didn't make a list of pros and cons when it came to me; he just cared. Sure, T'challa and Zaire cared, and I'm sure Cap and Sam did as well, but to them I was a series of calculated risks. They watched over me because they knew if they did not someone far worse would.

"Just got my conscience back. Can't blame me for trying to make use of it." He said almost shyly.

"Come visit once you get that noggin of yours sorted out. Okay?"

"Deal," he promised. "Which, means you have to stay out of trouble until I get there."

I tugged my hand from his grasp begrudgingly. I really would miss Bucky Barnes. But even he could not talk me down. So with an extra weight on my shoulders, I strode up the steps into the cabin of the plane. A loudspeaker with a gravelly voice ordered me to take my seat and fasten my seatbelt. There was a white leather chair beside a window that I quickly moved to claim. Bucky stood with his hands stuffed into his white pants. His pale feet stood out starkly against the black pavement. He ignored the air traffic controller trying to usher him away to a safety zone and instead kept those steady eyes trained on my window. They were open, vulnerable, nothing like the assassin I was warned of. I wondered if his control was as precarious as my own. My breaking point had flown past faster than a speeding bullet; what was his?

As the plane rose from the ground with a low hum, I turned my eyes forward. There was no looking back now—no going back.

 **So, Haven is definitaly going through a dark time. Do you guys think she will endure it or give in? What do you want her to do?-Aside from Bucky;)**


	7. Clear Skies

**Another chapter!**

I watched from the window as the towering trees filling the jungle of Wakanda turned into to the high rise building covering up the horizon of Seattle. The air, while significantly cooler, held no less moisture. A light drizzle against the plane's wings told me we'd reached our intended destination. Once the landing gears kissed down against the slick pavement, I was quick to jump the three descending steps to the ground. The puddle I landed in instantly seeped into my cloth shoes and splashed against my grey leggings. I was grateful for Sam's hoodie once again as it protected me from the cold daggers of rain tried to pierce my skin.

I made the mistake of expecting an exquisite car to be waiting like I'd received in the African country. What waited for me, however, was a man in a leather jacket and sunglasses, despite the lack of sun, with a grey beanie pulled down over his head. Little blonde hair peaked out at the bottom, but offered no aid in identifying the man.

"Is he my contact?" I turned to the pilot. He was leaned against the exit door puffing on a cigar that smelled of sweet grass. The old man just shrugged and thrust a plain blue flip phone into my hands.

"No trace, but emergencies only. Yes?" he said in his broken English.

I nodded and shoved the phone into my pocket. That would come in useful for when I ditched these babysitters. I would allow their protection for now, but as soon as I figured out where Menzel was, a mini storm would find its way into Seattle, not uncommon for this time of year, and I would be lost in the mayhem.

Approaching the man on the motorcycle, I kept my head down as the onslaught of rain picked up its pace. "I'm Haven," I called.

A sharp incline of his head to the back seat. "Get on," he instructed.

"You don't have a car or something? Or at least a helmet?"

The blonde man revved the engine and I quickly scuttled onto the back seat. He reminded me of Natasha with his brusque manners. At least he waited for me to lock my arms around his waist before taking off unlike her. The outskirts of Seattle peeled past us in dizzyingly dull colors. The dark clouds made everything a lackluster shade of grey. At least my chauffer's stocky frame shielded me from the majority of the bullets raining down from the sky. Downtown was packed with traffic, though this city's residents should long since have become accustomed to driving in severe weather. My driver wove through stalled cars so fast, my slick seat kept threatening to throw me into the street.

By the time we rolled into the parking garage beneath an apartment complex, I was shivering and thoroughly drowned. I wrung a few gallons from my jacket as the man parked the bike and cut the engine. He strolled over to the elevator and punched the button while I sidled up beside him, rubbing my arms for heat.

"Are you Clint?" I asked. "I know I'm supposed to be meeting a Clint Barton, but I don't know anything about him."

I was shoved into the elevator rather rudely. I whipped around, veins now burning with irritation. "Look…!" I started.

The doors closed and he turned on me, removing his tar black sunglasses so that his diamond hard eyes could cut through me. "Do you not understand what on the run means? Myself and the people you're about the meet are in hiding from every major power on this planet. Anyone could overhear. There are video cameras out there. You're lucky there's no audio. Yes, I'm Clint, hello. Don't ever say my name outside of the apartment again. Are we clear?"

"Yes sir," I clipped.

I expected a tired frown like so many of these bad ass avengers had mastered, but instead, his lips quirked up in amusement. He reached back, pressing the top floor button without turning around. "You've got thick skin, kid. You'll be just fine."

A buzzing interrupted whatever inspiring speech he'd been about to spoon feed me. It came from my pocket. Clint reached in and removed my phone, reading the text I'd just received. "He texts you and not me," he grumbled, smashing out a reply on the dated keyboard.

When the phone was finally returned to me, everything was in gibberish. The number itself was not one I recognized and the two corresponding messages were not written in any language spoken on earth.

"Just, T'challa. He wanted an update. Wanted to make sure you were safe."

"Code?" I asked.

"Scott can teach it to you later, though the King isn't very chatty."

The doors chimed open, revealing a bedraggled hallway. The two rooms to the left had the doors dangling from rusted bolts. The single room on the right looked like it was reinforced with the same type of steel that might be used on a safe. Clint tapped the metal once and it slid open soundlessly. Inside the apartment was a small kitchen with appliances that predated even my dinosaur of a phone. On the couch, a man with messy dark brown hair and vibrant hazel eyes jumped on his cushion as the game he played sent his character flying back in a reverberating explosion. A woman curled up in the window seat with her nose buried in a notebook glanced over, despite the impossibility that she'd heard our entrance over the noise from the TV console. She flicked her wrist and a pulse of red was sent charging through the screen before it blacked out.

"Come on, Wanda," the man whined, turning so he could pout at her. "I was so close to beating that level. Just one more game."

Wanda stood, smoothing the hem of her black sweater dress down and padded over on socked feet. Green eyes scanned over me, noting each flaw and each weakness before she spoke. "You are the air manipulator?"

"My last mentor made me stand on a roof for hours on end. You don't plan on doing that, right?"

A shy smile graced her guarded features before disappearing quickly. "No."

A whistle came from the couch. "No one told me she'd be hot," he called.

"Tap at your own risk, Lang." Clint rolled his eyes and set to paroozing the beer selection in the fridge that shook with the effort to keep its insides cool.

"You got beat to dibs," I said. Lang. He must be Scott Lang. Flirting I could deal with. Sarcasm I could retaliate like flipping a light switch. Wanda's eerie calm was unsettling though. Hasina had just been quiet, but she always said what she wanted. Wanda seemed to have volt after carefully constructed volt buried inside her, energy fizzling and ready to explode. So, I edged closer to Scott and his playful smile. The middle seat on the couch was lumpy and sank just enough under my weight so that I felt like I was being swallowed.

"Who beat me?" he complained.

"You know the Winter Soldier?"

"Of, fuck no. I'm not messing with his girl." Scott banged his controller a few times against his palm before his game surged back to life. He set his concentration by tucking his tongue between his teeth.

"Hold on, hold on." Clint came to taking the spot to my left side. "You and Barnes? I mean, I heard he was conscious but damn you move fast."

"I just wanted horn dog off my back."

"Offended," Scott muttered, though, his smile didn't waver.

Clint pulled at his beer and nudged me with an elbow. "Go grab a shower and find some dry clothes, kid. You're getting the couch wet."

"Don't blame her for being so drawn to me. I'm rather irresistible," Scott input.

"Yeah, to insects," Clint retaliated.

I left them and their sibling-like banter behind, opting to skip the shower and just bundle up in my thickest sweatpants and long john shirt. The room they'd placed me in had another twin bed shoved against the opposite wall and I prayed it was Scott's, though I doubted he wore dresses that reveal so much of his thighs. He seemed just a tad more conservative than that.

The covers were warm from the personal heater powering away in the center of the room. I pulled them over my head and dug out my phone again. I hit the contacts, reading only a series of numbers. I would ask Clint about them later. My little sanctuary was too blissful to leave right now, or anytime in the next few decades. Unable to decipher anything useful, I let my heavy eyelids close.

What woke me hours later was a buzzing against my stomach. Another text, this one disturbing my slumber. I pulled the offending device up to squint at the coded message. A different number this time, equally as opaque as T'challa's. What caught my eye, however, was the signature at the bottom. _'-B'_

The only B I knew in this fast paced, ridiculous life I now lived had been left back in Wakanda. Peaking out from my covers, I saw Wanda fast asleep on top of hers. She slept curled into a ball facing the wall. I tiptoed across the hall to the boy's room. From the living room, the sounds of a golf game Clint was watching could be faintly heard. Scott was snoring away upside down on his mattress, with more appendages dangling off the bed than on it. With a jab, I roused his from sleep.

He was a tornado of flailing limbs and confused moaning as he woke. I waited until he'd calmed enough to squint blearily up at me before seating myself on his bed and tucking my cold toes beneath his warm, bare thighs exposed by his boxers. He hissed and flopped back, causing the springs to groan in protest. "Next time you want to cuddle, just get in. No permission needed," he mumbled.

"Can you translate a text for me?" I asked, poking his muscled stomach.

"No."

"Scott, please. I need to know," I begged.

He held out his hand blindly and I dropped the phone into it. "You know how to cook?" he asked while his light eyes scanned over the message.

"Sure."

"Can you make me scrambled eggs in the morning? Wanda and Clint are the sunny side-up kind of people and they refuse to change their ways for me."

"Eggs for translation. Deal."

"You know this is from your boo thang, right? If I decode this and I find a dick pic, daddy Clint will have to confiscate your phone," he warned teasingly.

"Scott, you just called Clint daddy. Who's the real person that should be kink shamed right now?" I laid down beside him to watch as he mouthed the letters to himself, slowly piecing together the long paragraph. He really was rather warm. Maybe I would take him up on his offer to share the space.

"Ok, Rosales. Barnes wants to know that you're alive, how you're being treated. He wants to make sure you're not giving your goods out to anyone else." I wacked his shoulder, making Scott grin as he continued reading. "He says they're going to be testing something out on him tomorrow, or today I guess since Wakanda is hours ahead of us. Some new serum that's supposed to help undo what's been done to him. Then, it's just the little B at the bottom, which I guess is what clued you into who was contacting you."

He passed the phone back, yawning his morning breath into my face as he draped a heavy arm over my stomach. I read over the message a few times for myself before I asked, "Can you type a reply for me?" Snoring answered. I sighed and slid away from his grasp.

A quick peak in the living room told me Clint was out cold too; his head was lulled back against the top of the couch back with drool creeping down his cheek. Guess Bucky would have to wait for a response. Meanwhile, I swiped the laptop sitting on the kitchen counter and quickly typed in the pass code I'd spied Clint using earlier. I knew enough about computers to erase my tracks, to hide my internet searches, to deleted the email I sent out to Menzel's online site and use a fake return address that I linked to the email on my phone.

Closing out of the screen, I slunk silently back to bed. All was still in the apartment.

 **Uh oh! New friends and new trouble. Let me hear your thoughts. 3**


	8. Connecting Flights

**Whaaaat? Two chapters in two days? I know I'm too nice to you guys. But college starts up in a week from today, so this is me cramming in all the fun writing while I can.**

The clock on the nightstand positioned between me and Wanda's beds had to be wrong. I hadn't woken up in double digits since high school. The only sound in the apartment came from the clunky heater striving to beat back the cold air seeping in the walls. Outside, cars horns and crowds of voices told me the rest of the world was already in full swing. There was a buzzing coming from the floor that I realized had been the source of my consciousness.

With a dreary glance, I saw the B flashing on my screen indicating a call.

"Fuck," I dove to the ground, taking the majority of my covers with me. "Hello?" I answered, voice sounding like I'd gargled with nails.

"You're alive," Bucky's reply came.

"Unfortunately," I grumbled. "I got your text, but I'm not up to date on the code thing."

"Haven," Wanda groaned, rolling under her mound of pillows to drown me out.

"Good morning to you too," I called. Red danced between her finger tips and I scurried out of the room, not wanting to provoke the unreadable witch.

"How are things there?" Bucky asked as I wandered into the kitchen where Clint nursed a practically boiling mug of coffee. The heat, however, seemed not to affect the assassin. He tapped his ear and inclined his head curiously.

"Father Christmas," I told the blonde.

"Fucking hysterical." Clint rolled his eyes and turned back his attention to the newspaper he had fanned across the bar.

"What?" Bucky asked.

"Clint's being a nosy dick. Wanda definitely freaks me out. And Scott keeps offering things a lady would never even consider. I think it's because he's secretly in love with Clint and has to let off steam somehow."

Clint smirked. "Well, who isn't in love with me?"

"Since when are you a lady?" Bucky said in my ear.

"I don't like either of you." I clicked my tongue, digging out a half empty carton of eggs from the fridge. "So, the serum?" I clicked on a burner and went on a search for a pan to make Scott his precious eggs.

"The tests say that I'm leveling out. But the only real way to test it would be to trigger the Winter Soldier, which no one is really keen on doing."

"That's great, Bucky. Once you get that head of yours straightened out, you should really come visit. I could use some decent company around here."

I could almost hear his smile through the receiver as his smooth voice bounced with amusement. "You've only been gone a day, Haven." Then, softer. "How are you really? I know before you were a little unstable."

"I'm fine," I clipped.

"Yeah, I believe that."

I chose to ignore his pointed sarcasm. "Good. I'll text you eventually. Go get better."

I hung up, tossing the phone down onto the counter so I could begin cracking eggs. If I was going to remain here, I had to at least give off the pretense that I was trying to fit in. I didn't hate the Avengers. I didn't want to hurt them, but I also couldn't sit back and let whatever useful substance I had in my veins go to waste. So, I would play it cool with my natural charm.

Clint raised his eyebrows but kept his mouth shut except to request his eggs sunny side up. The smells of breakfast lured in the two other sleepy occupants who settled into bar stools on either side of Clint. The eggs simmered away while I observed them. They didn't look like deadly warriors. They just looked washed out. Scott was bouncing in his chair, anxious to eat. When I finally dished up his meal, he tore into it without a fork. Clint waved me off and Wanda set to reluctantly pushing hers around her plate.

"When do we start training?" I asked her, leaning across the counter.

"Whenever you are ready."

"I'm ready."

"You are not ready," she said.

"Definitely not ready," Clint agreed.

"You can't know that. You haven't even seen me use my powers," I argued.

"And we won't until you get a handle on that fear eating you up," Wanda said, guarded green eyes boring straight through me. I knew she had strange powers involving energy and the mind, but surely she could not read all my thoughts. If that was the case, and she knew what I was planning, I would have an arrow in my throat by now.

"I'm not afraid…"

Scott shook his head quickly. "Yeah, don't even try that angle. Wanda here knows what she's talking about when it comes to your deep dark worst fears. These eggs are perfection, by the way. What was mine again, Wanda?"

"Losing the ones you love," Wanda said cooly.

Scott snapped his fingers and pointed. "See? I didn't even know that."

"That doesn't sound very dark," I pointed out.

"And she has no one left she loves," Wanda leaned forward, interest apparently peaked.

The room went as silent as the vacuum of space. Even the traffic outside silenced in respect to watch me pass by, a rare meteor that visited the Earth only every few decades. I clasped my hands behind my back tightly. Wanda relied more on emotions than actual thoughts, so I kept my pulse low by manipulating the air entering my lungs. I would not let her know just how sensitive the nerve she'd struck was.

"How can you not love anyone?" Scott asked through a mouthful.

"I love my dad," I said quickly.

"You don't have a father anymore, just as I do not have a brother. The dead do not need our love," Wanda said. "That's it, though, isn't it? You fear love. You talk and jest and let everyone feel like they're close to you while keeping a gun ready behind your back."

"To be fair," Scott interrupted. "I'm pretty sure that's Clint's strategy too. And, hell, maybe even mine."

"And I can't shoot for shit," I input.

"But even you two have friends, people you would give your life for. Is there anyone you would do that for, Haven?" Wanda continued.

"Why does it matter? So what if I don't have anyone to love. I don't need that to train."

"No," Wanda admitted. "But fear has a way of taking you apart piece by piece. That is something I had to learn on my own. You have to be at peace before you use your gifts or they will consume you."

"Awesome. Thanks for the psychoanalysis." I tossed the egg pan into the sink, snatched up my phone and strode to the heavy metal door. I touched it, but it didn't open.

"Oops, sorry. I don't have it set to your biometrics yet." Scott dashed over and opened it for me with a wrap of his knuckles.

"Where are you going?" Clint called.

"To get more eggs," I called.

"Oh! Can I come?" Scott asked excitedly.

I dipped my head in a nod. I tolerated him the best. And truthfully, while I wanted to be away from Wanda, I didn't want to be alone. I hated that; it gave me too much time to think.

Scott pulled on a baseball cap and a hoodie over it, concealing his identity. Tufts of dark hair peaked out adorably against his pale forehead. He offered me one of his beanies, which I tugged into place gratefully. My long spiraling hair hung loosely past my shoulders today and I made a mental note to buy ponytails as well. Scott led the way down the stairs, strolling out the front door instead of through the garage. I was glad we weren't taking the motorbike. I needed the calm air that surrounded us on the slow walk to the grocery.

The sun peeped down from its hiding among the clouds and brought much needed warmth to my cheeks. The four lane street in front of the complex was relatively empty except for the occasional mad driver tearing past in haste to get to work. Scott nudged me to the right, towards the line of yellowed trees hanging over the sidewalk. A pair of kids dressed in school uniforms scuttled between us, cackling at the top of their lungs. Scott smiles at the retreating girls, a soft fondness taking over his good-natured features.

"Daughter?" I guessed.

He nodded, not saying anything for once. I let it drop. He was here and she wasn't, so whatever happened couldn't have been good. I guess being a wanted criminal could have something to do with it.

A cute mom and pop corner store drew us in with its freshly backed pastries lining the windows and cheery classical tunes playing form speaker. Scott was lost in his thoughts the entire time we shopped, so when I went searching his pockets for a wallet, he jolted.

"Woah, why are you feeling me up?"

"I don't have money," I told him.

"Well, neither do I. Clint's in charge of that stuff. Oh." He looked down at the basket of eggs and ponytails, realizing the problem.

Raising my hands, I wiggled my fingers playfully. "Got five of 'em. Can you say discount?"

"We're not supposed to draw attention."

"We won't if we do it right." I reached into the basket, swiping the ponytails, then leaned closer to Scott. I kept those lively hazel eyes locked on my dark ones as I slide my hand up the back of his jacket where I tucked the pack into his jeans. Strangely enough, though I really should have expected it, there was a gun stashed there as well.

"You're hands are little icicles," he informed me. "What's happening to the baby chickens?"

I switched our position so that now I was the one hidden from the cameras. "Cover me," I muttered slipping the eggs into the front of my jacket. Scott leaned closer offering the requested protection and his nose brushed against my temple. With my arms wrapped tightly about my waist to keep the eggs still, I whipped my head up. I could hear the oxygen rushing in and out of his lungs at a rapid pace. The air surrounding us was charged with some magnetic force that prevented me from stepping away. It wasn't love, nothing that innocent, this was pure lust. It had been far too long since I'd been in the throws with someone as admittedly attractive as Scott and his offers no longer sounded so preposterous.

His hand reached to press against my cheek, warm and soft, testing the waters. I was not that kind of girl; diving in the deep end without a lifejacket was more my style.

"It's weird, right?" I asked.

"So weird," he murmured.

"Hey. Buy something or get out." An irritated worker called as he passed our aisle.

In my startled state, the eggs fell from my grip to crack against the floor. The worker frowned in confusion as I stooped to collect the few that had been spared. I reached down, grasping Scott's hand to lead him in a made sprint out the door.

"Wait a minute!" the worker shouted after us as he realized what was happening.

But it was too late. We were long gone. Scott kept glancing back for several blocks until our building was in sight. Then, he turned a brilliant grin on me. "That was the most fun I've had in weeks."

"More to come," I promised with a wink.

My phone buzzed in my back pocket, so I passed off the handfuls of eggs to Scott and dug it out. An email response with no return address. It was from Menzel.

 **Haven is creating quite a mess for herself. Two guys. Two allegiances. What could possibly go wrong?**


	9. Wing Man

Sneaking out was going to be hard enough without Clint's ass passed out on the couch every damn night. Menzel gave me a date, but she wouldn't give out the location until closer to the time. She would have all the control. When I showed up, she could just as easily drug me up and subject me to experimentation for the rest of my life as she could hear me out.

For precisely one week, I'd played the part of a dutiful pupil. Wanda didn't exactly begin to teach me, but her ability to keep things so close to the chest was something to appreciate. Clint trained with me a little bit, showing me a few vital moves to keep from getting killed in hand to hand combat. Scott showed me how to use the code and, per my request, demonstrated how to set up a number as untraceable. He really was brilliant and sweet, but if he got in my way, if any of them did, I would have to be willing to take them all out.

Finally, one morning my phone buzzed with a single set of coordinates. I slipped from bed, and silently pulled my escape bag from beneath my mattress. Wanda didn't stir; she had grown accustomed to my late night traversing the apartment. Snoring told me Clint had tapped out on his couch in front of a hockey match. Bare feet allowed me to cross the hardwood floor soundlessly. I would change into my shoes once I was outside. When I opened the door, I was grateful for the advanced system that forgo the need for squeaky hinges.

Not daring to signal the ding of the elevator, I plodded down the building'a stairs. At the bottom, I sat and dug out my sneakers. I twisted my hair up into a bun, forcing my mind off the memory that came with those ponytails. In playing a role, it was important to include genuine aspects of yourself. Sometimes, however it was far too easy to lose yourself in the part. And that day with Scott I could never quite place where Haven ended and where their captive began. I didn't hate them. I most definitely didn't want to hurt them, but I could stay here either.

Trains and buses didn't run at this time of day, so I hailed a taxi and collapsed into the backseat. It had been so simple, almost too easy, so I didn't dwell on it. I counted it as a blessing and focused on the horizon that we chased after. I couldn't risk an airport with zero money or identification. Vegas was hours and hours away, but they could not hope to track every cab leaving Seattle.

* * *

With a jolt, I woke from sleep, cursing at myself for letting my guard down. The cabbie glanced back blandly through her mass of red curls and thick glasses. "We've still got a good half, miss. Everything's alright. You looked like you needed the sleep. Your phone's been vibrating something awful, though."

To be expected. I kept it on only in case Menzel needed to contact me. The messages from Clint, Scott, and Wanda were deleted without being read. Then there was one from Bucky, just one, not twelve to twenty three like the others.

' _Be safe.'_

Everyone was terrified of him, but he just might be the best man I'd ever met—the man with the sad, lonely blue eyes. At least he tried to understand. I might have even offered him some sort of response if another message hadn't come through first.

' _Stop.'_ Menzel sent.

I barked the order at the cab driver and scanned through the glass that was clouded with dust for her. We were stopped just short of Las Vegas in a little town that must have been used as a western movies set many years prior. It was desolate save for a legitimate tumbleweed blowing through a four-way stop. A saloon to the right had swinging red doors flapped in the needy wind, clacking against the concrete in an uneven beat. Up ahead, town hall stood at the end of the T-intersection.

Pushing open the creaky door of the cab, I stepped out into the dry desert heat. The sun blazed at high noon, scorching straight through my layers of clothing. Sweat trickled along my spine, making me itch as I sought out my contact; any other human life would be good, actually.

"I don't think you want to be let off here, honey. Why don't you get back in? I won't even charge the last few miles," the cabbie said.

"She said stop," I muttered, swatting at one of the brave gnats who'd strayed from the swarm of them at a watering trough.

"Oh, Haven."

I spun on my heel, kicking up a cloud of dust. There she was. Dressed in baggy jeans, a thin tank top and golden sneakers. The wind picked at her perfectly combed hair, but did not succeed in musing it. Meanwhile, every spare strand of my hair scratched at my face. She stood on the bottom steps leading down from the saloon and behind her, lining up along the porch railing, were soldiers who were larger than life. While Menzel was almost kidlike in appearance, the men and women behind her pushed seven foot easily. None wore any type of armor or carried a single weapon, yet somehow that didn't set my nerves at ease.

"I came to make an offer," I began.

"And I might have listened had you come alone. I thought we had an agreement, Haven. We've known each other far too long for you to be this foolish."

"She's just a cab driver," I said.

Menzel's faint pink lips curved up and she pulled down her dark tinted sunglasses just enough to look over the rim at me. She turned to the cab driver and signaled her to leave, which she did, peeling off and leaving a mini sand storm in her wake.

"I don't harm innocents," Menzel said with a pointed look at me.

My eyes flashed. "So, you were in Wakanda!"

"Unfortunately. They are foolish to try and harness you."

"You can't kill me."

"I don't think you understand how the Genysis works, my dear. You will not fall prey to illness, but should a bullet enter your heart, it will not repair itself fast enough in order for you to survive."

"I'm your best shot," I said boldly, throwing my theory of her needing me as much as I needed her out there as one last ditch effort.

"I may not have my research, but I still have my mind. I can remember most of the formula."

"Don't you want to know what went wrong? Before you use this, or you give it to someone you love. That's why you made it right?"

"This is your angle then? Distract me with talks of a proper deal with your reinforcements waiting in the rafters?"

"I'm alone. The only thing I want is my dad back. You can have however much of my blood you need to find that cure."

"That's not how it works either," she said slowly. Her eyes darted over my shoulder, but I would not break eye contact with her. Whoever she was seeing was probably some lost tourist.

"You'll figure it out if you want my blood." I held my ground, refusing to buckle even an inch. It was this or I had nothing to fight for. I would be a leaf drifting aimlessly across the earth.

"One condition," Menzel said, rubbing at her pointed chin. "You dispose of your friends for us. They wouldn't be much of a fight for us, anyway, but I just need to know. I need to know where your allegiance lies."

A pair of heavy feet hit the ground brazenly followed by two lighter sets. I knew before I turned who it was: a bird, a witch and an ant. My mouth went dryer than the dessert beneath my feet. How they had followed me invisibly, much less even known I had left was beyond me. I guess they have not survived under the government's radar this long without having at least some good intuition.

"What're you doing, Haven?" Clint sighed with resignation in his gaze. An arrow spun between the fingers of a gloved hand.

I kept my mouth shut tight for once. Wanda stepped forward, eyes blazing red with magic. "Step aside so we can capture Menzel," she instructed.

"She needs me," Menzel sang from behind me.

"You won't hurt us," Scott pleaded softly. I kept my eyes carefully fixed above all their heads. Friendship had no place in this town.

Wanda took another step and my hands fisted at my sides, previous restrained power leaking out almost faster than I could keep track of it. Sand spun wildly into the air, making Clint cover his face; it didn't dare touch me, however. The dust made it nearly impossible to see and even more difficult to breathe. I heard Wanda and Clint hacking as they struggled to stand firm. That's when Scott attacked.

A blow hit my gut with all the force of a toy train set at the speed of a fully functioning locomotive. I hit the ground, and the dust parted around me, providing a little bubble of breathable air. Scott was inside it with me, his knees pressing down against my wrists now that he was normal sized. He tugged his helmet off, a foolish move. I didn't need my hands to manipulate the air. Maybe he knew that and didn't care.

"Ok, I hate when people say this, so just a little forewarning because I'm about to. Just breathe for me. Breathe, Haven."

I laughed in his face, his shadowed, hopeless face. He may have given up on his family, but I would not. "That's all I do," I muttered, directing a blast that knocked him flat on his ass. He was only a few feet away, but the cloud of dust was so thick now that he vanished entirely from my line of sight.

A hand touched my shoulder, heavier than any guilt I could lay on myself. Menzel trained her icy eyes on me and nodded sharply to end it. The air went deadly still as I called it back into me, leaving particles of sand drifting to and fro on the now lazy breeze. Three bodies were on the ground, all breathing but none moved when the onslaught ceased. Wanda had her jacket covering her face and was curled downward to take the brunt on her back. Scott was unconscious and splayed out like a starfish. Clint, originally curled in on himself, quickly jumped to his feet and notched an arrow.

The aim was lethal. I knew it before he even sent it sailing towards my heart. All it took was one small gust to send it off course and impaling the ground at my feet.

"That's quite enough." To the man at Menzel's side, the blonde woman said, "Take us home."

A golden ring of light encased us as if one of the sun's rays had gotten loose and now shone directly down on me. It didn't burn or hurt; it lifted my feet from the ground like a tractor beam. A flash of red cut through the transparent wall and smashed into my gut. The wind was knocked out of me quite literally. But then, me and Menzel and her guards were moving up through the atmosphere, into the pitch black of space and I didn't need to breathe anymore.

Where the hell was home?

Something disrupted the beam and we all went crashing back down to the desert floor. Dust invaded my lungs and wrapped around my throat. A burning ray or light cut through the already blazing sun's relentless gaze, shining right over my shoulder to hit Menzel square in the chest. Instead of carving a hole straight through her, it merely threw her back against the salon and knocked her unconscious. Her guards dropped as a half dozen synchronized bullets made contact with their necks.

The suit of red and gold lowered from the clouds. The eyes glowed earily, almost making it appear possessed. But I knew who was inside the suit—Tony Stark.

Iron Man kept his blaster hand leveled at my chest while the wind tore harmlessly past his armor. "Drop 'em princess, or you drop like your buddies here."

My hands, which I'd raised unconsciously in defense, floated to my sides. I was not bullet proof like Menzel. Tony fired something regardless of my compliancee. I gaped down at the dart protruding from my thigh and looked up just as the mask pulled away from his grim face. How had he found me? I didn't get the chance to voice this question before the coils of darkness wrapped around my mind and pulled me into its recesses.

 **Well you guys, what do you think? Too late for Haven to choose a different path?**


	10. Off Course

**This is a present to myself because I survived my first week of professional school!**

"Why did you bother calling us if you had already decided what to do?"

"Just wanted to show you how shitty of a job you did handling it in the first place, Captain."

"We had it under control, Stark. You think we didn't know exactly where she was the entire time? We had a plan. We were going to follow Menzel back to her base. Destroy her research at its root."

"Except her base is Asgard. You didn't figure that out, did you. That's how she created the formula, from her own blood. If I'd let her flee with the bait, we'd all be fucked."

I felt pretty fucked over myself. A groan tore past my chapped and bleeding lips. A thick layer of dirt coated every inch of my skin. Penetrating florescent lights pierced down on me, holding me fast against the freezing white linoleum floor. In an attempt to stretch, my elbow knocked against a sheet of clear glass to my right. A shrill alarm blasted, warning me to back away or be tranquilized over and over until I scrambled away. My head was still fighting off the effects of the last dart, so I crawled to sit in the center of the 10 x 10 room. All glass walls lined it, caging me in, yet allowing anyone who wanted to look in at the crazed circus animal. A simple mattress was pressed to the far left corner, no springs or bolts for me to fiddle with. A simple toilet was on the opposite wall with a miniature sink at its side; I'd be getting no privacy when using that. I still wore my desert battered clothes, though my shoe laces were missing. My ponytail was also MIA, causing my long black hair to hang down in filthy knots.

Forcing clean, if not overly filtered, air into my lungs I focused on what the voices had said. Stark and Rogers. Plans, jobs, _bait._ When my eyes flashed straight ahead, I found the two speakers watching. Outside my transparent cell was an old laboratory work area. Half of the equipment predated me and even the newer things were covered in dust. The two men stood side by side with expressions a mixture between disgust and pity.

I'd never escaped. I'd never defeated or tricked an Avenger. I was just another pawn in the game. Only instead of Meznel deciding the moves, it was people who I'd thought were on my side. My mouth opened to accuse them of this much, but only a pathetic croak came from my parched throat. What would I say even if I could speak? Steve had only done to me exactly what I planned on doing to them; he was just better at keeping his plans to his chest.

"Do you want some water?" he asked softly.

"Do you want to tell us what the Asgaridan is planning? Army of the dead? Luring in suckers to fight for her side with the promise of eternal life? Does she want earth?"

I worked my jaw, trying to save up some saliva to swallow. Steve turned swiping a water bottle from the table behind him and pressing it straight through the glass.

"One way glass," Tony explained. "Except it's not for sight. You can't get out. And there's not enough air in there for you to use your powers. Sorry if you feel a bit lightheaded, but not really."

I scooped of the water bottle, downing it in a few chugs. How was it I felt thirstier still?

"Why don't you just ask her?" I rasped out. Jesus, let me never pick up smoking as a habit. Some people could work that voice, but I was not one of them.

"She's yet to wake up, or she'd just really phenomenal at playing possum. But you've been working for her this whole time, haven't you? So let's hear it." Tony talked fast, but my groggy mind slowly processed his words and I smiled sadly. "Come on, little air nomad. Out with it."

"The truth for the truth?" I addressed this to Steve because he was the more reasonable of the two.

Tony groaned and strode from the room muttering something about, "not wanting to listen to this drabble." Steve walked closer, however, clasping his hands diplomatically behind his back. "You first," he said.

"I really was on your side for a while."

"When you gave away our position in Siberia?"

"Ok, that wasn't my fault. In the desert Menzel said something about being connected. I think it has to do with her blood being part of the serum. She contacted me in Wakanda. I told her to go fuck herself and that's when the tornado bit happened because I was so pissed off. That's when Bucky woke up too. He's your friend right? He's kind of amazing. He knew what I would do. Was he in on your little plan?" I asked.

"No. I haven't been able to return to Wakanda. I've been tailing your ass."

"We can go back," I insisted eagerly. A deep frown answered, so I continued, deciding not to press my luck. "But, um, then we figured out I'd forgotten some stuff around the time she smothered me. My dad dying being one of them. I wanted him back." I shrugged. "So I decided to do whatever that took."

"We never trusted you," Steve admitted. "Nat implanted a tracker in you, so we never lost you. Do you really know nothing of the Doctor's plans?"

"I'm discovering I know nothing about anything."

* * *

After a tedious shower in the sink, with my hair getting stuck in the drain twice, I changed into the clothes Steve left for me. Simply grey sweats with no drawstring and a white tank top. I'd been alone for hours by now and already I was growing restless. Even Tony's judgmental glares would be welcome at this point, though I'd prefer Bucky's sincere but cautious smiles.

I laid back on the mattress, dust clouding the air as I did so. I coughed, struggling to catch my breath in the thin atmosphere. I don't blame them. I was dangerous and not to be trusted. If they let me out right now I probably wouldn't change my ways.

The sound of metal scraping along my floor drew my attention. I glanced over to where Sam was pushing in a tray of fajitas. His hand retracted hastily when I padded over, careful not to slip on my socked feet. His arms folded over his chest, eyes trained on his bedraggled jacket draped over my mattress.

"Don't suppose I'll ever get that back," he murmured.

"Don't think I'm getting out of here any time soon, so no. You're welcome to come get it and offer me company."

Sam sighed, sitting down on the table behind him. He was quiet for a good while, the tick from his watch filling up the void our silence left. I nibbled at the food with a tumultuous stomach. While it smelled and looked amazing, I doubted I'd be able to keep any of it down. I was too tense to relax even a single muscle.

"I didn't think you'd do it," he said. "I hoped you wouldn't, at least."

"I don't work for her. I mean, I did. Then she suffocated me. That tends to sever working relationships. And then I just needed her for something."

"Steve told us your story. Whether or not we believe it, which no one does by the way. Doesn't matter. You still went to her."

"Haven't you ever had someone you love so much you'd do worse for?"

He rolled his eyes at me. He actually rolled them, groaning in frustration. Rubbing a hand down his jaw he sighed and folded his hands together as he leaned over his knees. "Who doesn't, Haven? That doesn't mean you get be this stupid. I watched my best friend fall out of the sky because he got too reckless. Get your damn head out of the clouds, Icarus. Your dad is dead. Making a deal with the devil won't change that. She was going to drain the serum from inside you until there was nothing left. Until you were dead too! What good will that do your dad?"

My teeth gnashed down on my lower lip until I tasted fresh blood. "How are Clint and Wanda and Scott? Did I hurt them?"

"Clint's still fuming, still finding sand in his ears. Wanda hasn't really said much. Neither has Scoot actually, which is weird for him. What'd you do to him? Hit him with something worse than a sandstorm?"

"I don't think he wanted to believe I could do it either."

"You're good at tricking people like that," Sam clipped.

"You weren't part of the trick, Sam."

"Thanks. I feel super special."

I leaned forward, careful not to brush the sensitive glass. I pressed my lips into a fine line, pleading wordlessly because I knew he would write off whatever I said as lies. Sam was my closest friend, which is sad considering the few weeks I've known him and those times we definitely manipulated each other, but that didn't mean I needed any less. I had few enough friends in my life; I didn't need Sam bailing now too.

He raised his eyebrows without amusement and I sank to sit cross legged in front of him. "Even if I believe you, I'm not letting you out," he said.

"How's Romanoff?" I asked.

"Glad to have Barton back. We can't stay long though. Tony is hosting us only because of a mutual threat. He still doesn't agree with the actions we took in the split."

"I'm the mutual threat?"

"Menzel. KGB. You by extension."

"Any news on Sargent Barnes?" I asked.

He rubbed a hand over his mouth, pulling on the dark hair rimming his lips. Amusement flashed in his eyes before quickly being replaced by a stern look he must have adapted from Steve. "You've been waiting to ask that, haven't you?"A long pause. "The super soldier serum, the one that made him the Winter Soldier and Steve Captain America, it extended their lives. We don't know how long. Steve's let him become the perfect hero, Barnes' the perfect villain and you're just…"

"A mess. Out of control?"

"See that's what I don't follow. I've never actually seen you out of control, Haven. Sure that one tiny slip up in Wakanda, but didn't Menzel trigger it? You are just about the most in control person I've ever met, right under Steve and Romanoff and The King himself. Anyway, why do you think your blood counteracted with the meddling that was done to Barnes' head? He hears ten words and he's gone." Sam snapped his fingers for emphasis. "But you and your gifts are one. They move with you, with your emotions. That's not a lack of control."

"Menzel said I was a side effect. That I took the serum on purpose."

"She also told Clint that she killed his mom and got his dad fixed on liquor."

"Did she?"

Sam scoffed, twisting his hands together. "Clint laughed in her face. She's full of shit. And she's been feeding it to you to draw you in. Side effect or not, she's got plans for you. She wants to see how powerful you are. She's testing you for something like a kid prodding a kicked dog until it bites back. And I've heard your bite stings." A tense smile.

I returned it hearing his phone chirp in his pocket. He pulled it out and sighed before sliding his feet to the ground with a thump. I stood, fists clenched as he leaned towards the door. I didn't want to be left alone again.

Keeping the conversation going, I silently begged him to stay just a few minutes longer. "You're saying she tricked me. So you believe I haven't been working with her since day one?"

He glanced up from his texting, locking his phone and shoving it into the back pocket of his jeans. "I'd like to." He jogged towards the flight of stairs leading up out of this windowless basement and back to the real word. His long legs took him up them two at a time and left me with only the echo of his footsteps to keep me company.

 **Sigh. I just love her bromance with Sam. I was glad to finally pull Stark into the picture. Most of the Avengers will make an appearance at one point or another in this story. And, of course, our favorite soldier of winter will be returning in the next!**


	11. Baggage Claim

A dream filled with endless fluffy cats and as many triple layer chocolate cakes that I could devour was interrupted by a persistent knocking. Not on any sort of door, because my prison did not allow for such easy escape routes. This sound was located in my head and I didn't need a peephole to know who was requesting entrance to my brain. I sent Menzel a mental finger and drew one of my dream kitties into my lap where he greedily proceeded to lick at my cake icing. The harmless knocking transformed into a shrill siren; she was no longer asking.

I lurched awake, sending my covers in a cascade to the floor. The blood drained from my head and as I sat trying to orient myself, she slipped in.

"You ready to get out of here?" Menzel's voice sang.

"You've gotten me into enough trouble already, bitch," I grumbled out loud.

"You did that of your own volition. We have been caged here over a week. Don't you think it time, we get some fresh air? You do miss the open skies don't you? Tired of feeling like your slowly suffocating every day?" It wasn't her words that swayed me. It was what I felt the first time I encountered her after the transition into my powers; it was what drew me out of the hiding place beside Sam all those weeks ago and what yanked me from bed now. She had a barbed wire in my heart and was unafraid to yank it to elicit her desired reaction from me.

When initially glancing out the glass, only my own reflection met my gaze: a woman with an anchor dragging down her shoulders and half moons of bruises under her eyes. I was not getting enough sleep as is and it became apparent Menzel was intent on lessening that number even more so. A thick blob of curly hair twisted into a braid down my back and my clothes fit a bit more snugly than they had on Monday—Sam was the resident cook and he brought down far too many servings for me to work off in this confined space.

Another footstep closer redirected the light and allowed me to peer out into the room. Menzel blew a kiss and kicked her golden sneaker against the control panel. An explosion of sparks followed and smoke curled up towards the ceiling, but no alarms sounded.

"How…"

"No Earth prison can hold me. I just had to rebuild my strength. That man of iron packs a good punch. Let's go." She was leading the way and my body was dragged along in her current. I seized Sam's jacket, shrugging it over my thin tank top. We would either make it out of here in one piece of be carried out in a dozen.

Already I could feel my lungs expanding, taking in all the non-restricted oxygen they could handle, probably more. We treaded silently up the stairs, daring only to let controlled pants fill the quiet. Any exchange of words would likely bring down the wrath of this entire building on us. Menzel waved me back while she scouted out a cross roads ahead. Best the Avengers remain asleep and find only empty cells when the sun rose. An almost imperceptible nod affirmed that all the paths were clear. We continued straight for another few feet until a t intersection slowed us. Menzel pointed down, indicating that I should stay put while she checked for potential threats. I slid down to rest against the short haired carpet, sucking in a slow steadying breath. Faint light lit the hallway from above, their bigger brothers already sleeping for the night. I wished I could be like them. Return to sleep and wake up back home, back on the beach in my father's arms.

But when my eyes opened, I saw only the empty corridor ahead, void even of Menzel's form. Not a heartbeat after she disappeared around the left corner, Menzel's body was airborne, flying past me from the hallway I was moments away from following her down. Shit, did Stark have a guard dog she had failed to detect with her super-alien abilities? Menzel did not rise. A shadow flitted across the wall, massive and foreboding as it loomed closer. I backed away until I came across the four-way junction again. Backwards led down to the containment level; I would not be returning there. Left led further into the compound and right to a balcony. I could do with some fresh air.

I sprinted for the locked glass doors, hurling my shoulder against them. They scarcely rattled in their frames. I dropped the air pressure, causing the glass to shatter in a spray of shards that scraped along my bare face. Not an alarm went off. At least Menzel had done her job disabling every layer of the security system. The explosion of glass, however, was loud enough to wake even the heaviest of sleepers; time was the only factor now. That, and the semi truck of a man I could hear crunching after me in the debris

Before I could take a step, an arm seized the back of Sam's jacket. I slipped out of the roomy fabric, rolling out onto the terrace. Though it was in the wee hours before sunrise, New York still brimmed with activity. Sounds of car horns and grouchy travelers floated up from the streets and the blaring city lights briefly blinded my dark accustomed eyes. I didn't see the fist coming for my downward cast face but I felt the air pushed violently out of its path; I heard the exhalation of breath as the action began. Sending a blast of air at the guard, I knocked his feet from beneath him. What kind of guard came to work dressed in plaid pajama bottoms and a Yankees sweatshirt? Where were his shoes? What his house slippers lacked in traction, they made up for in comfort; I hoped he was cozy there flat on his back.

The kick placed to the center of my chest stung just fractionally less than if he'd been wearing combat boots, backed by a steely amount of strength from his body I had no desire to experience again. I reeled, back slamming into the metal terrace railing. Pain licked up my spine and crackled down to my limbs like a white hot jolt of lightning. As I struggled to ward off the numbness from my arms and legs the grounded man fought with the jacket that had become draped and hopelessly entangle over his face.

With my teeth grinding down into my cheeks for even the smallest sensation, I fought off the swarms of ants crawling through my limbs as feeling returned and climbed to straddle the guard railing. The drop from this level of the building was dozens of stories deep but the cool air wrapped around me comfortingly, promising to ease my fall. One of my sneakers hung over the edge, the untied laces dangling in the breeze waiting for the rest of my body to join it. I would be fine once I jumped, first I just had to convince my knuckles to let go. Once I ran away, I would never be able to stop. The Avengers would never believe my story.

"Wait!" The man got to his feet quiet as an assassin, and his voice cut through the air with equally deadly accuracy. It struck its target and had the intended effect: tranquility.

I relaxed unintentionally because I recognized the speaker. I turned, finding Bucky racing towards me, oblivious to the glass shard cutting through the thin soles protecting his feet. My hands forgot their job as disbelief overwhelmed me. How was he in this country? Was this another of Menzel's mind games?

The free fall hit me a second before his metal arm closed over my wrist. His grip was fleeting, too loose to prevent gravity from snatching me away from him.

" _No!"_ he shouted, bracing his hands against the barrier as horror washed over his face. It went slack as he watched me hover midair. I manipulated the air to carry me up and back over to brace my feet against the concrete overhang. My hands slid over his, and I smiled warily. The careless wind carried his long hair into his face, so I stopped it to properly look at him. Thick eyelashes enveloped narrowed blue eyes. His pink lips were pressed into a tight line and a baffled dimple was displayed on his chin. "Didn't know you could do that," he breathed, soft, relieved, suspicious.

"Didn't know you were here," I replied.

"You weren't supposed to. Neither is Tony, for that matter. So if he shows up, I'm still in Wakanda."

"Help me back over this banister, Sarg?"

His jaw relaxed, allowing his mouth to precariously pull up to one side. He removed his hands from beneath mine and placed them firmly, professionally against my hips. He hoisted me back over as if I weighed nothing more than the air I controlled. "Weren't you trying to escape?" He nodded towards the empty night.

"I didn't ask to be broken out," I told him. "And I was running from the scary freaky ass security guard I assumed you were."

"Pretty sure we agreed you'd stay out of trouble until I could visit," Bucky said.

I laughed, briefly wondering why his thumbs were rubbing against my waist. "You took too damn long."

His head was inclined towards me, sending my heart into a steady gallop to keep the blush present in my cheeks. It was entirely possible he had gotten more beautiful since our last encounter, and even more possible that I had grown even more attached.

We heard a safety click off at the same moment. Bucky shoved me behind him as the assembled team squared off against me along the glassless door's opening. Natasha wore only blank panties and a matching camisole, but the gleam on her twin hand guns seemed somehow more intimidating with her bed head. Steve was behind her with only sweatpants and his shield.

"Did she escape?" Steve asked, sleep making his voice nothing more than a rasp.

I peeped out waving a cautious hand. "Wasn't my plan. I was just trying not to get killed by anyone." I called.

"What happened here?" Natasha demanded as Scott and Sam skidded up behind them. Both parties wore boxers and held no weapons save for the stuffed dolphin in Scott's hands; they could have been sleep walking for all I could tell.

"What she said," Bucky muttered. "I was just up getting water when I ran across them. Took out Menzel. Me and Haven had a bit of a misunderstanding. But it's sorted now."

Scott looked down at the glass, sweeping a pile away with his ninja turtles slippers. "Misunderstanding. Right," he said.

Natasha tapped her ear. "Stand down, Barton, Maximoff."

A clatter came from the roof as the pair shifted their lethal positions. Clint unnotched his arrow and returned it to its sheath. The red magic vanished from Wanda's hands. While all threats were dropped, not a soul relaxed.

"So what now?" Sam asked.

Steve sighed, rubbing his skewed hair back with the hand not defending his torso from my potential attack. "Both cells are broken. Keep Menzel sedated until Tony can come in the morning. I guess, get the cuff for Rosales."

Sam nodded and jogged off back into the compound. Clint jumped down from his bird's eye position and tugged his flannel shirt close against the penetrating cold. "I'm not buying the innocent victim card. I don't know why Barnes is," Clint said.

"Schwartz will explain when we get there," Bucky said calmly.

Steve nodded slowly, clapping a trusting hand on his friend's shoulder before letting those walled off blue eyes descend on me. He didn't say anything, just studied me. I didn't know who Schwartz was or why the name was so instantly accepted, but I was glad no one was attempting to decapitate me at the moment.

Returning with something clasped in his hand, Sam paused to pluck up his abused jacket from the ground. "Well, damn, I don't want this back anymore. What wood chipper did you run it through?"

I couldn't tell if he was being intentionally harsh or if it was meant to be a joke because he helped me into it before gripping my right wrist harshly. "We were going to move you tomorrow anyway, so we had this ready. Like a probation tracker only worse. Don't try anything stupid." Sam clipped on a glowing blue bracelet into place. My arm dropped like dead weight to slam against my thigh. "Since your containment is broken, you'll have to stay the night in one of our rooms. Take your pick."

"Where are we going tomorrow?" I asked. "Schwartz?"

"My room it is, then." Natasha grabbed my arm, hauling me down the hall.

Anyone else would have been preferable, Bucky's would have been a goddamn dream, but her grip was already bruising and I didn't want to provoke it to bone crushing levels. Natasha would no doubt leave me with even more questions than I started with, so I kept silent for my own sanity. She threw me down onto her Queen sized bed and pulled up a chair where she plopped down. Slim legs propped against the mattress as she plucked up a book with the title written in Russian from her nightstand.

"You're not sleeping?" I questioned.

"Not likely," she said.

"I can't sleep with you watching me all creepy like that."

"Long night ahead for both of us then."

 **What a reunion! I'm glad i finally got Bucky back on the scene. Anyone else currently drowning in school?**


	12. Window Seat

**Another long awaited chapter, you guys! Guess who passed their first exam in their professional program this week! (Hint: it's me) :D**

When we made our way through the crowded airport, Natasha kept so close she might as well have been humping me. The others dispersed into the masses of people. I was not permitted to see the boarding pass and the city listed on the gate we entered was one I could not hope to pronounce much less be able to pin point on a map. The plane took its sweet time taking off. People listed in, meandering as if there wasn't a place in the world they had to be. Though the others in my accompanying group maintained casual air, Natasha's constant sweeping eye movements kept me looking over my shoulder. Menzel was left under Tony's care and, though he promised her new prison was not even comparable to the temporary ones that had housed us, I knew she would find a way out eventually.

Steve was seated directly in front of me with his nose buried in the escape routes and safety procedures pamphlet. If I craned my neck I could spot Sam through swinging the first class curtains and Wanda was curled up on the last row of business writing in a notebook. Bucky was a few rows ahead and to my left. His broad shoulders leaned against the open window watching as we took off and the world turned to blurs beneath us. The seat beside him was vacant.

"As much as I love your company…"

"Barnes won't hesitate to take you down any more than I will. One hiccup on this plane and you're unconscious until next week. Understood?" Natasha held up the button inside her palm that would send electricity reciting throughout my body via the lovely bracelet they'd bestowed upon me last night for emphasis.

"What about turbulence?" I asked.

"What about it?" she smiled sweetly and drew a magazine into her lap that she began to feign reading.

A sigh blew from my lips and I offered a thumbs up before maneuvering past her, providing a brief lap dance, to get into the aisle. Steve cut his gaze to me, but didn't attempt to stop my progress. I bumped into just about every person before collapsing into the chair at Bucky's side. He didn't jolt or press a knife to my throat, though I knew he'd snuck plenty past security. He gave me a small nod, continuing to observe the swatches of land skating by beneath us. The sun was sinking and soon the outside world would be reduced to darkness with not even a sliver of the moon to illuminate it.

"Where's Scott and Clint?" I questioned.

"Stayed to watch Menzel," he clipped.

So chit chat wasn't going to be a thing today. I heard a laughter from Natasha in the seat I'd vacated. Steve was turned around saying something that pulled up the hard lines of her mouth into a genuine smile; I didn't know she could do that. Maybe it was just me she was a hard-ass to.

"Is that a thing?" I asked, gesturing towards the pair.

"Hu? No. I don't know. Just because I've got the antidote doesn't mean the memories come pouring back in. It's more like little trickles."

"What did you remember today?" I asked eagerly, sitting forward in my seat so my knees brushed against his denim covered thighs.

"Nothing good."

"So tell me something good that you do remember," I encouraged.

He finally averted those dark blue eyes to meet mine. Peering into them was like swimming at the bottom of a cloudy lake, and I didn't want to surface. "I haven't had a real conversation in days, Bucky come on," I begged.

"I remember this hotdog stand by my school. Steve and I would stop there almost every day after class. It wasn't even that good, but the old man who served them always had great stories from the rounds he made throughout the city that day. Sometimes he would forget to charge us, so we just left extra big tips."

I was staring at his lips moving, I realized. They were fascinating. Hadn't I kissed him last time we'd been alone? Just his jaw, I recall. Maybe this time I'd aim for that tantilizing.

"Why are you here?" I asked suddenly.

"If you're my cure, then wouldn't it serve to reason that whatever Hydra put inside me is yours?"

"They're going to take my powers," I murmured.

"To stop Menzel."

"Would taking off your metal arm help you? It's nice by the way. Very shiny."

"Stop being ridiculous."

The silence curled back around us like a python sizing its prey up before devouring it whole. I plugged in headphones to the movie playing to get some sort of noise and settled in for the long flight.

As the hours slunk past, sleep, once considered a lost cause, swept over me in warm comforting waves carried on the warmth Bucky emitted. I was certain my eyes closed for only a moment, but when I opened them again, the movie's ends credits were rolling and I could feel the plane's descent from cruising altitude. I shifted, moaning as sleep's welcome embrace was pulled from my body. Upon sitting up and stretching so that my back popped, I realized my cheek had been pressed against the plush of Bucky's sweatshirt. My hand ran over the indentions left in the skin as a yawn fluttered past my lips. Bucky's eyes were soft, watching me beneath the rim of his black baseball cap.

"Where are we?" I asked.

"Florida," he replied.

I gawked more at the straight answer than the place itself. He smiled sheepishly, a boyish expression that relaxed the stress lines on his brow. "We had a connecting flight. You slept straight through it. When was the last time you slept a whole night?"

"Did you carry me or something? Didn't people question you?"

"Not really. An elderly couple told me I was a good boyfriend and two drunk girls swooned a bit."

Damn, why hadn't I been conscious for any of this? Why couldn't we use the lover's cover when I could actually participate? I wanted to remember Bucky Barnes carrying me through an airport, his well conditioned arms wrapped around my body, his long hair brushing against my nose as I hugged myself to his neck.

"You gonna move, Ace?"

"Hu?" I blink realizing we'd landed and people were beginning to fill the aisles. A woman with a bag full of something that felt like a slab of concrete slammed into my side. I hissed and whipped to see if Natasha's ability to wither with the most subtle of glares had rubbed off on me yet.

"Sorry, dearie!" the woman stooped to face me and clasped wrinkled hands over her drooping breasts. "Oh, James!" she cooed, leaning over me to pinch Bucky's cheek. Bucky smiled a smile that could charm anyone in a five mile radius. "I'm afraid Rob had to rush ahead to snag a taxi for us. He would've wanted to see you again." She addressed me now. "You're even more beautiful while awake, dear, especially next to this looker." The woman threw Bucky a wink and leaned down to smooth at the ends of my hair, which was quickly frizzing as humidity drifted into the plane.

"You're too kind, Dorothy," Bucky said.

This must be the elderly couple he mentioned. He failed to include how friendly they'd become while waiting to board. Dorothy wore a floral green shirt along with bright yellow bottoms that scarcely clung to her thin waist. Wisps of white hair hung down over glasses as thick as a T-bone steak that sincere grey eyes peaked out from behind. "You're eloping, aren't you? I can tell the look. You kids have enough money? You'll want a proper church, now, trust me."

"We're just fine, thank you." Bucky held out his human hand to assure her, but Dorothy was already intently digging through a bag Mary Poppins would be proud to own. Bucky's hand fell to rest on my knee as a bashful sigh poured through his lips. I'd never seen him flustered before. The skin burned straight through my loose white pants and sent tendrils of heat curling up my thigh, wrapping around my body in enchanting spells.

"Here," Dorothy produced an antique locket. It was broken at the hinges and the gold coating it wore away at the edge. Intricate spirals traced the front and on the back was an inscription, 'Until…'

"Until?" I questioned.

"Until," she repeated excitedly, pressing the cool metal into the palm of my hand. "Here, I don't have any grandkids and you, James, remind me of a young lad who grew up on my street. So, take it. Put whatever you want in it. Hold each other close until..." another wink then she was being swept away with the traffic anxious to escape the confines of the plane's cabin.

Bucky smiled faintly, his eyes following her all the way out the door.

"I know you're mentally like a century old, but she's taken. That your type?" I teased.

Bucky shook his head, sliding the top half of the locket from my hand and tracing his metal fingers over the smooth surface. It wasn't infatuation I saw; it was awe. He was reeling from the fact that someone could do something so kind or take such a selfless interest in him.

"Did I miss the engagement party?" Natasha's voice trilled behind us.

"Think I missed getting engaged," I replied.

A grunt cleared Bucky's throat as he rose to his feet to retrieve the overhead bags, our only luggage. "On me, Rosales," Natasha said, sliding her backpack over her shoulders and leading the way. I hastily stood, tucking my locket half into my back pocket and offering Bucky a quick smile before shimmying past him and following my probation officer into the exit tunnel.

The airport was a blur of faces and elbows, but once outside, stunning orange flowers rose up to greet me, spurting yellow buds from their centers. Heat seeped into my limbs, chasing away the lingering cold from the recent northern dwellings. Though I couldn't see it, I could smell the ocean—salt and sea spray and home. Florida was no Costa Rica, but it was the closest I had been in years. Even considering the less than favorable circumstances, I would accept the peace now humming through my veins. Natasha slid into a topless shimmering silver corvette, dangling the keys proudly in front of me before jumping over the door to slide them into the ignition. I guess overt was the new incognito. There were no signs of the others following; they would need to get their own transportation anyway because this little thing barely contained the two of us.

Red waves fanned over her bared shoulder as she leaned across the counsel to me. "This is not my car, but if you scratch it I will have to seek retribution for moral reason. You understand, right?"

"I feel like you're about to start making love to this car," I said.

Natasha stroked the steering wheel, tapping her sunglasses down onto the bridge of her nose before throwing it into drive and sending us hurtling into traffic. If I thought clinging to the back of her on a motorcycle in Siberia was terrifying, then this was outright suicidal. I get that speed and catlike reflexes are inherited with the badass assassin title, but I was about to throw up all over her moment, or just keel over. The first option would probably irritate her more than the second because it included defiling her precious car.

After a few jarring turns that took us closer to the coast, Natasha whipped us into the parking lot of a little mom and pop bait shop. Lime green and fuchsia tackle hung from the four pane windows and wind chimes ranging from the height of Steve Rogers himself to no longer than my hand lined the porch overhang boasting of an owner who prided themselves at hoarding. On the second story, window seats jutted out with books stacked up along the outside panels and a woman propped up in an open left one. She was so wrapped up in her book, the sound of Natasha's squealing tires didn't reach her. I, however, ground my teeth and stumbled from the now motionless car. After fighting back the urge to attack Natasha, which would only end up with me dead and my corpse nowhere to be found even by the other Avengers, I pointed towards the oak sign dangling from the entry doorway.

"Closed," I said.

"Just like I requested." Natasha popped gum, though I had no clue as to when she acquired it. "Sally!" she shouted up to the woman who jumped so bad, she nearly fell to her death.

"Sally?" I repeated, squinting against the sun which blazed blindingly from right above the shop.

"I thought you knew Dr. Schwartz," Natasha said.

The British woman beamed down at me and waved excitedly. I offered a cautionary wave in return. She raced downstairs and was bustling down the porch steps, holding her bouncing breasts in her hands as she did so. Hair with more white than I remembered streamed behind her in an unkempt mass. I braced myself as the freight train force of her hug hit me.

"Didn't know you were that friendly." Natasha eyed us suspiciously.

Sally was blubbering. "Oh, Haven my dear. I have to apologize for my treatment of you. I didn't realize there was imprintation in play. Why didn't you tell me? I had to hear from Mr. Rogers that Dr. Menzel can manipulate your emotions. I knew she went rouge from Shield after what happened to her husband, dreadful business, but I had no way to keep tabs on her. And you were so willing to help Sgt. Barnes, I should have known. I sensed you were a sweet girl." She cupped my cheeks squeezing just a bit too hard.

With a shove, I broke her affectionate embrace. My eyes sliced into Natasha, but I got no satisfaction from seeing the guilt flit across her neutral expression. "Shield? Imprintation?"

"Let's get in the safe house," Natasha clipped, leading the way inside.

Sally's big round eyes peered up at me from her miniature height. "I think I jumped the candle on the debriefing a smidge. Sgt. Barnes is coming right? He's such a sweet talker, he gets me blushing like a catholic girl in heat. It was a shame we had to keep him on ice for so long."

I choked a little, allowing her pudgy arm to slide around my waist. I wasn't mad, just confused. If everyone knew what was going on, why did they still treat me like hazardous waste? Sally led me into the wooden building that squeaked as the ocean wind bashed against its hinges and I suddenly missed my little cocoon of a prison. Maybe being in the dark was better.

 **What do you think? Next chapter is where some things get a tad more heated, if you guys will stick around. ;)**


	13. Ace

**I know you've all been waiting for this! Just a warning for some of my younger readers, this chapter contains unprotected sex. I know y'all are smart enough to know better.**

The window burned against my forehead, teasing me with just enough of the welcome heat outside that my toes curled in anticipation. Dr. Sally twisted back and forth in her perch atop the swivel stool, fountain pen tucked between painted pink lips and a clip board pressed to the tip of her nose. The spines of over a dozen hard back and well-read booked held up my back as I sat with my legs pulled to my chest on the window sill. One arm was extended to offer up my blood to the collection tube Sally inserted a few minutes prior. The other fingered the locket Dorothy deemed me worthy to inherit.

Across from me, Bucky sat with his arms folded over his chest and his long legs stretched out on the ground crossed at the ankles. The sun pierced through the opaque clouds shinned down like a spotlight, singling him out from the landscape behind him, which was quickly turning dreary with the oncoming night.

"This is all just precautionary, in case something has changed since our last encounter. From what I understand, however, the mixing of the Asguardian blood, along with several chemicals whose formulas mankind is not equipped to break down yet, led to what we humans can only observe in the very young. You know how a mother imprints on her baby? She is the first person that new born sees, so they are tethered together for the rest of their life. The best I can explain it, after you died and came back, the serum allowed this to happen to you, only on a far more…let's say primary level." Sally clasped her hands, frustrated with the rudimentary explanation, but unable to break it down any further.

"So, I'm like her kid?" I asked.

"Ok, that was a bad route. Let's try this one. So, a puppet master designs a puppet to be its own entity, right? Let's say Menzel as an Asgardian is capable of molding you in the same way. But the little strings? Those are still attached. She pulls, you react. Is that better, love?"

"I'm fucking Pinnochio?"

"You called me Jiminy Cricket, let's not get too defensive," Bucky spoke up.

"Can you be the Blue Fairy, then?" I asked. "Can you make me a real boy?"

Sally smiled, though it was nothing more than a tight purse of her lips. "If only I could work magic. I'll do my best though. Get a few winks of sleep. Come see me at daybreak." She snapped, pointing her finger at Bucky who merely shrugged.

"Still not ready to comply, soldat?"

"Wasn't last time, not about to this time. Done poking the beast or can I grab some shut eye too?"

Sally winked, blew a kiss, then spun dramatically on her cushion to call after our retreating forms. "Separate rooms!" she ordered.

I threw my hands up, glancing at a mortified Bucky's face. She could hit him with words that had once triggered one of the deadliest assassins in the world, but lord forbid she bring up his sex life. Not that we shared one, sadly. I was still working on a sly way to ease into that. "Well, damn, there goes my vacation plan," I muttered.

"I'm serious," Sally said through a laugh. "I'm a Doctor. I know how this stuff happens. Just—James I'm looking to you for this because you're the responsible one, god help us all—just make sure she gets a minimum of eight hours of sleep. All her vitals are dangerously low. She needs sleep before they shut down completely."

"Understood." Bucky nodded, ever the soldier.

The house was old and designed to host a family of a half dozen. There were just enough rooms for us each to claim one; Sally said she would pass out in her lab and not to worry about her. Mine was at the far end, four poster bed positioned strategically in the center of the room for the best vantage point over the waters when the sun would wake. Soothing paintings hung on the wall, reminiscent of the previous occupant who fancied himself a van Gogh when a 5 year old's finger paintings would have evoked deeper emotions.

I collapsed on the bed, hitting my numb arm against the mattress to restore blood flow. Bucky's hand rubbed over the bandaid on my inner elbow, but I scarcely noticed. His hand fell to the locket that might as well have been welded into my hand. "You'll feel better in the morning," he assured.

I doubted that very much, especially, since the only sleep I'd managed in the past 48 hours had been against his shoulder. I knew what was wrong now; I was a junkie who'd lost her fix. This was withdrawal from Menzel. Whatever she did to my body created an addiction I didn't want to shake. If given the opportunity I would seek out more. They were right to keep me locked in here.

"Do you need anything before I go?" he asked.

"How'd you do it?" I whispered.

He leaned down, not quite picking out what I said. "Do what?" he murmured.

"How'd you sort out who you are and who they made you into? Where does Bucky stop and the Winter Soldier begin?"

With a rumbling sigh, he sat on the edge of my bed and rubbed his hands over his knees. An incessant wall clock ticked away warning how late the hour grew. A chorus of crickets sang outside, welcoming the moon back into the sky. The cover slid down to my waist as I sat up to place my hand on Bucky's shoulder; even that didn't break him out of the trance he'd entered.

"Buck?" I shook his shoulder this time, but still no reaction. His eyes were dead, sorting through a hundred thousand memories I could never hope to understand.

Shifting to sit behind him, I put my legs on either side of him and wrapped my arms around his waist. My face pressed just beneath where his hair met his back. I closed my eyes, breathing in the scent of clean soap mixed with a woodsy smell clinging to his grey Henley. This was the calm before a storm and I was bracing myself for impact.

Instead of yelling at me for being so inconsiderate, for poking at a past he clearly wanted to forget, Bucky just placed his hands over where mine linked together—the human one along with the metal one. It was the first time he'd touched me with it. He must be painstakingly aware of that too, because he held his breath as he waited for my reaction. I just hugged him tighter, wishing I could somehow be powerful enough to prevent either of us from shattering again, but I was already in pieces and he was held together by kiddy glue. All we would do is cut each other on the jagged edges.

"Ace?" His voice was a kiss against my eardrums, softer than any velvet, vulnerable like a lone soldier facing off against an entire battalion.

"You don't have to answer. That was a stupid question. I didn't mean to upset you. I'm just throwing a pity party and it gets lonely being the only one in attendance."

He turned in my grasp, silk strands of hair grazing my forehead before his nose brushed against my temple. Heat bloomed in every crevice of my body, settling with burning clarity between my legs.

"He can't feel anything," Bucky breathed. Too close, too _goddamn_ close for his own good.

"And you can? God, Bucky, I can't trust what I want," I whispered, barely audible over the deafening silence in the room. "There's no way to tell what's me and what's Menzel."

"I can tell," Bucky said.

"Please, share your expertise."

"She has power over you when you feel weak, vulnerable. When you found out about your dad, when you were first coming into your powers. She wants you to be miserable so you'll need her. How do you feel right now?"

"This place reminds me of home." I brushed hints of sand from the sheets, little grains that I'd tracked in from the day scattered to the floor. Looking anywhere but him. If I met that keen gaze, I would not be able to fight back against the tide of my want a moment longer. "This is the most at peace I've felt since…before Menzel."

"And do I contribute to this inner peace?"

"Fuck no. You are literally going to drive me into an insane asylum one day. It's not healthy how much I think about you. But you do make me happy."

A smile trudged to the corners of his mouth. His eyes swept up searching for the puppet master pulling my strings no doubt, in disbelief that this was me speaking of my own volition. When he looked at me again, he had migrated into my hazardous air space, a no fly zone for anyone who didn't want to risk exposure Menzel's influence. He would kiss me if I didn't stop him. His fingertips swept beneath my chin, nothing more than the ghost of a touch, but still I let him tilt my head up with the light presses. Patience and leisurely paces were my banes, but I would not push him, not if it meant scaring him away permanently.

I was rewarded with the faintest of kisses, his lips faintly a whisper against mine. Do I kiss him back? Do I put my hand down his pants? What had Bucky said? Stop thinking and trust what you feel; he felt damn good.

My teeth snagged his lower lip while my hands roped into that long hair, pressing out mouths together with bruising force. His breath scattered and returned in little gasps as I urged the kiss into new depths—depths like the Marianas Trench which had yet to be fully explored by mankind. I however, had every intention of exploring every inch of Bucky's body if he allowed me.

With a tug on his shirt, I urged him to follow me as I crawled towards the center of the bed. He paused to kick off his shoes before doing just so. His frame was a mighty oak leaning over me, his forearms thicker than most tree trunks I'd encountered. Toxic presses of his mouth against mine soothed the few insane nerves that attempted to flare up. They were toxic because I knew I could never stop. Now that I had started kissing him, the off button no longer existed. His lips and mine were custom tailored to fit seamlessly together.

His hands, resting on either side of my head, trembled marginally. It was not from fear, he maneuvered the lustful haze with the ease of an old friend. This was restraint.

"We should probably talk about this," Bucky panted roping his emotions back under a watchful eye.

"Pants," I instructed, drawing a throaty whine from him when my lips sponged down his scruffy neck.

"Slow down, Ace. Haven, Christ."

My hand was rubbing him through his pants. Hips bucked appreciatively and most of his self-discipline washed away with the wave of pleasure that showered over him. "Do you want this?" I asked, freezing my actions to give him time to respond. I was a blaring greenlight, but if he was even a little cautious, I would respect that, no matter how my core screamed for him to be buried, throbbing, pounding inside me until the only thing I knew was sweet release.

"I want _you_ ," he whispered earnestly.

With a hand set to the center of his chest, he permitted me to roll him onto his back and climb onto his wide waist. With a chaste kiss pressed to the corner of his mouth I whispered, "So take me."

His hands raced up her torso, removing my shirt in one fell swoop, a well-practiced dance. I shuddered at the contrast between his one burning hands and the other freezing against my needy skin. He took the reaction wrong, almost pulled away, but before he could I set to work wrestling his boner free of his jeans. I cupped it, kissing the tip lightly on my way back up his body. He preened, shucking his own shirt off and throwing it so that it nearly sailed out the ajar window.

Foreplay was exactly what had been occurring the past few days since our reuniting, maybe it even spanned back to our initial meeting. Either way, neither of us bothered much with the appetizer, hungry exchanges led us both straight to desert. His yearning fingers brushed my core, blue eyes flickering up at me with tremendous awe that I was so wet for him and they squeezed shut when his fingers pushed the barrier of my panties aside and thrust into me.

Brow creased, already damp with sweat, though I couldn't be sure whether that was from the heat of Mother Nature of from my heat where he rubbed his thumb over my aching clit, Bucky maneuvered his cock to tease my folds for just a breath—it was the longest most exquisite moment of my life. And then he was buried to the hilt inside me. I moaned and he groaned, our symphony of harmonizing pleasure filling the room to make even Beethoven jealous. He swiveled his hips once, testing the waters, unlocking a spot that pulled the filthiest words from my mouth. They in turn unleashed him. All the power he tried to downplay, all the layers of clothing to hide the raw muscles beneath were gone; all physical and emotional walls were left at the door.

Now, only we remained and he was gripping me like he wanted to bruise me, to leave a reminder for later. It was a sprint not a marathon and we were both gunning for the finish, clinging, thrusting, whispering unintelligible words until the red tape flew past with fire licking up and down our veins.

Crawling off his lap, I laid on the center of the bed, panting as I watched the lazy ceiling fan circle overhead. I felt Bucky collapse beside me, his head settling against my outstretched bicep. His eyes were shut fast and they didn't open again before I coaxed my sore muscles into relaxing. Not a word was said. No flimsy explanations tossed into the void because we both understood exactly why that happened and just maybe we're both ready to stop running from who we are.

 **Comments! Concerns? Please talk to me, I'm lonely.**


	14. Lay Over

**Enjoy the happy chapter because everything is about to go to shit. :D**

I woke just before sunrise with a peculiarly mixed sense of contentment and unrest. The contentment I understood with a mere glance at the sleeping man beside me and the adorable drool dried on his jaw indicating a deep, relaxed slumber. The light left on in the bathroom washed over the side of the bed he occupied, picking out the glossy hues to his raven hair. His nose was to me, lips parted and raw in the wake of last night's exploits.

The unrest is what drove me from bed and behind the locked door of the bathroom. Hands braced on either side of the farmhouse sink, I peered through my ill-kempt mass of curls to see the dark circles finally erased from beneath my eyes. The last time I slept that hard, there was a significant amount of alcohol involved. I ran a hand down my body, remembering the covetous way with which Bucky had done the same only hours prior. Sure enough, there were marks to prove as much not only on my hips, but all along my throat where his teeth sunk in, where his lips latched on. Looks like I was wearing my hair down today.

I kept my head down when I finally entered the room again, moving soundlessly so as not to rouse him before I was ready to acknowledge everything we had done. A quick scavenge for clothes had me shuffling down the empty hallway to the lab. Sally scuttled about muttering in some yet undiscovered language, while Sam, the embodiment of the early bird and its worm catching, teased her from the examination bed. Once I entered, however, his target shifted instantly.

"Let me ask you something," Sam started.

"No," I clipped.

"Don't provoke my patient. I need her relaxed this morning," Sally chastised.

Sam ignored the both of us, swinging to the ground, hooking the band of his sweatpants with his thumbs while his eyebrows kinked knowingly. I winced, bracing myself for the taunts that he had no doubt been compiling the majority of the night. "You kids wrap up?" he asked.

"Christ, you can stick me with that needle now." I held my arm out to Sally who waved it away, nose plastered against the computer monitor as she typed.

"I'm the one who had to listen to it. Besides, it's not just for diseases and whatnot. I, for one, don't want a little James Barnes running around any time soon," Sam continued.

Sally bustled her way between us, shining a palm sized flashlight into my bleary eyes. "Sgt. Barnes is clean, ran the tests myself weeks ago. So, confession Haven, yesterday I may have injected you with the anti-serum I've been compiling from Bucky's blood."

"Aren't Doctors supposed to ask before that shit? Isn't that how Haven ended up in this mess?" Sam asked.

"We used a fucking condom?" I spoke, unable to process what Sally admitted, so I focused on Sam's earlier questioning.

"I think you mean, we used a condom fucking." Sam winked.

"The only thing that would have happened was her side effects disappearing, but my readings are saying nothing stuck," Sally continued on, ignoring the pair of us.

Now, a needle pricked my wrist and their bickering muted as I watched the vile of blood being drawn. This was like that day on the farm all over again. My memory of the trauma was blocked, but the feeling that came with it was clear as the orange dawn breaking just past the window seat and its curtain of books: betrayal. Sally was a neutral, a third party in this hell and still she chose to experiment on an unsuspecting woman. That's how Bucky was made; that's how the Winter Soldier came about.

The wind chimes outside clattered together excitedly, each unique voice carried out over the open ocean. My own voice came out as nothing more than a choked whisper, "Stop." When no reaction came from the doctor, the leaves of the palm trees growing around the house like a protective wall began beating against the windows. Sam and Sally startled into silence. "Stop," I repeated and Sally just dipped her head in guilt.

"I'm merely trying to help, Haven," she said.

"So be better than Menzel. Get willing subjects, or at least ones who can't fight back." The gale my emotions stirred up disappeared leaving an eerie calm in its place.

I stormed from the room, down the steps, out over the sand dunes to collapse at the fingertips of the ocean. To my back, the line of palm trees all but obscured the house entirely from my view. They wouldn't come running after me, however. This bracelet they kept me wearing would tell them exactly where I was and probably my pupil's dilation at any given moment if they wanted. I let the salty waters stroke up my bare legs, dampening the hem of my cut off jean shorts before being swept back out by the current. I'd always loved how the sand morphed under my body after a wave, fitting like a second skin. If I closed my eyes, let the sun soak into my tan skin, let the chorus of the seagulls carry me in its wake, I was home. I could picture the little shack my parents occupied, the tourists my dad had to chase off our land more than twice a day. I could smell the neighbors barbecuing and hear my parents inviting themselves over to partake of the meal. When nights would roll around, my family would gather around our old, box TV, unconsciously learning English, and watch American actors living out "reality" lives. Back when everything was simple, back when our only worry was the occasional hurricane.

When I opened my eyes, however, Florida took the place of Costa Rica once again and a pair of long legs were stretched out beside me. They had khaki pants rolled up past pasty ankles and dark hair curled out against the sand beneath Bucky's head. I broke my transfixed gaze away from the ocean to find two pools of still water studying me from where he lounged.

"Hey, Ace" Bucky said softly. The sea breeze was nonexistent today, so his loose white shirt hung off the edges of his muscular frame without contest.

"'Sup?"

"Can we talk now?"

"I asked if you wanted to last night," I shrugged, humming as the foam of the waves came up to lick across my toes and chase away heat from the sun.

"I wanted other things last night. One thing is the same, though." He shifted to crouch in front of me, his hair an inkblot against the endless blues of the sky and water behind him; his features so sharp, they could have been carved by a clever blade. "I have not had my own mind for a long time, but my heart is fine. I want you."

The sand commanded my attention, the fraying ends of my T shirt, and the freckle on my arm, anything but him. The ocean was white noise, drowning out the rest of the world too effectively; I didn't want a clear head. Rationality was against me right now; it reminded me my gut instinct was not likely my own. The tide was quickly rising, the salty water licking up to my calves now. A glance over Bucky's wide shoulders warned me of the large wave too late. It smacked into his back, sending him crashing into me. The end result was a hopeless entanglement of limbs and wet sand crammed into nooks I'd never be able to get clean. Bucky was laughing, tugging seaweed from his hair. The beautiful noise carried down the beach, drawing in curious seagulls. My hands settled on his cheek. It was rough with a mix of his stubble and the grains of sand, but the rays from the noon sun reflected in his mirthful eyes and shimmered up at me, etching a smile into my fretting mouth. After over a hundred years of hell had somehow only made him kind. He was a man I could fall for, and that set a marching band to work in my chest: a drum thundering in my heart and trumpets soaring in my veins.

"Alright," I said.

"Alright?" he repeated.

"Alright, you want me. I want you. Let's do something about it."

When he kissed me this time, all the devastating need was gone, what remained was a nearly crippling tenderness. He was the only one who saw me as anything but an advancement or a threat; he was the only person I could breathe around, though his lips didn't leave me much room to accomplish that task right now. With me on his lap, Bucky scooted us away from the reaches of the sea and hooked the backs of my knees to straddle his waist much like last night. I hummed in delight at the friction he created between my thighs, mouth plunging down his throat, teeth tugging at the patches of skin that made his heart convulse against my chest. I pushed him onto his back with one hand, using the other to pop the button of his pants and wiggle down the zipper. He was half hard with anticipation, lust coloring his cheeks, or maybe it was the heat from the sun.

A few sensual strokes had his length throbbing in my gasp and his fingers twisting chunks of my loose hair. "Need help with that?" I teased.

He exhaled, with a forced control that had his muscles wound so tight they quivered. "Someone could see."

"You want me to stop?" I asked, nose poised at the dip in his collar bone.

"Pause?" he asked.

"That shed ours?" I inquired, nodding towards the wooden building positioned strategically between us and the house.

"I think it holds extra supplies for the store, maybe a surfboard or two."

"Private enough for you, Barnes?"

A small smile touched his face and he pulled me up by the back of my neck, kissing one of the more prominent hickeys on the side of my neck, dragging a hiss from my teeth. "You better be ready to finish what you started."


	15. Carry Ons

If there was ever a time to play beer pong, it was certainly not now; that didn't stop Sam and Natasha from setting up a game, however. Steve massaged Sam's shoulders, offering encouragement and coaching advice in his ears along with friendly slaps to his ass to prep him for what promised to be an engaging game. Natasha cracked her neck, stretched her arm across her chest and leaned to whisper something to Bucky that made him grin and shake his head. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and sauntered over to sit between the couch me and Wanda claimed. His metal arm slung over my shoulders, chasing away the faint sunburn on my bare shoulders, pulling me towards the familiar side I molded into. I slide my fingers between the cool chinks of his fingers, pressing a kiss to his scruffy jaw and lingering a moment to savor my ability to do this.

"She slipped the Russian stuff in there, didn't she?" Wanda inquired, breaking my fixation.

"Oh yeah. Sam isn't going to make it. Hope you've all got your eulogies ready," Bucky replied, watching the game begin with amusement.

Wanda waved her hand, wrapping red magic around three spare cups on the kitchen counter and pulling them into our empty hands. "These are regular beers, right?" She sipped before Bucky could confirm as much.

I sipped at mine slowly, enjoying the feeling of it settling into my bloodstream. I liked the Avengers on nights off.

"Ready players?" Sally called.

Sam gave a thumbs up and Natasha winked.

My attention was directed to the hand on my thigh, worming up the hem of my sleep shorts. I swatted Bucky and his antics away, keeping my gaze steadily fixed on the unfolding game. Alcohol buzzed in my veins, chasing away all thoughts of Menzel and my powers and anything further than the welcome wooden walls encasing us.

"Wanna get out of here?" Bucky whispered in my ear.

"Haven't had your fill yet?" I teased.

"Don't think that's a possibility."

He had a grip of iron on my hand, dragging me down the hallway out of sight, but we did not make it to the staircase. He ducked into the bathroom, using my body to effectively seal off the door. I sighed against his lips, contented to just do this for the remainder of my days. Something nagged at the back of my mind, however. Things were too perfect. It had to all go to shit soon, didn't it? Karma and balance of the universe and all that jazz. Then, Bucky was lifting me onto the sink, tugging down my shorts to my ankles, and burying his mouth between my thighs. I hummed in appreciation, fingers carding lazily through his fine hair. Hips rocking against the insistent metal fingers buried inside me.

"Bucky?" I asked, following up the name with a moan when his tongue lashed out against my clit.

"Did you know Sally was using your blood to run experiments on me?"

"Yeah. She told me when she drew a vial the other day." Bucky sat back with a huff, irritation creeping in the stall his menstruations.

"Well, she didn't tell me," I clipped.

"Christ, that's messed up. I'm sorry."

I hopped down, yanking up my pants, putting a palm between us to let myself think. To let myself fume. "You didn't think to mention it? Or are you so buddy buddy with Sally that you just trust her entirely. You of all people should know better than to trust scientists."

"Yeah. Yeah, I know. Because they turned me into a killer, but that's not what she's doing. She has only ever tried to help me and she's trying to do that same for you. No, I don't believe every word she says; I doubt everyone around me every goddamn day. But, I trust her, like I trust Steve, like I trust you."

My fingers twisted over the tracking bracelet on my arm. I held it between us, like a flare. It kept me inside that glass prison, never letting me breathe properly. It kept me carefully under their thumb.

"Menzel is in prison, safely locked away. You said she was neutralized. So why am I still being treated like threat number one?" Bucky stared at me, his jaw working over gritted teeth. "My abilities don't need to be cured. I'm not like you," I pushed, probably too far.

Bucky nodded sharply, taking my wrist in his hands and typing away quickly. "You're right. We're very different." The bracelet fell off, leaving an angry red mark in its wake. He strode past me, out the door.

Frustration might have poured through me if not for the weight of the entire Avenger's expectations being lifted from my wrist. I rubbed over the sore skin, massaging away the imprint the tight metal cuff left. I turned to the sink Bucky had just been eating me out over and cut on the water. I scrubbed at the skin under my fingertips and up to my elbows until burned red. A relieved laugh curled against my lips and I braced my hands against the porcelain counter, glancing up at myself in the mirror. I called on a gentle air current to come dry my hands, soothing the tenderness of my skin with cool caresses. I was free. I could leave. I would not get very far, but still, the opportunity was there.

Strolling back into the swing of the party, I tapped Sam's shoulder, tagging myself in to the concluded game. Natasha grinned coyly behind her rows of untouched cups. Steve refilled my set and handed me the ball.

"Show me what you've got, Rosales," Natasha taunted.

Bucky and Wanda were still curled on the couch and he did not lift his head to look at me when I entered.

I threw the ball towards the cups, twirling my fingers when it went slightly astray.

"No powers!" Natasha accused.

"Come on. You know I can't win. Just give me that one," I pleaded.

"Drink!" Sam commanded the assassin, using my shoulders to brace his staggering form against as he jumped enthusiastically into the air.

Natasha shrugged and pulled the entire cup of beer easily. Her teeth slid over her lower lips, eyelashes flowing enticingly as she launched the ball back. Perfect hit.

* * *

"You can't be up there, Sam. The rafters aren't designed to hold your fat ass!" Wanda's voice pulled me from sleep.

The clock said that it was 0400 and the crick in my neck informed me I was far too old to be falling asleep on floors. Steve snored in the recliner, little umbrellas tucked into his golden locks and everything but his boxers MIA. Wanda prowled under the exposed rafter beams where Sam lounged lazily, his legs dangling over the edge and his hands still clutching the margarita I'd fallen asleep to him making. Wanda turned to me for help, but my headache prevented me from doing anything but waving at her.

Natasha was curled up on the couch, no less than a dozen blankets piled on top of her, probably by Steve in mom mode before sleep overtook him as well. My hair fell into my face and I grimaced because the bathing in beer smell reminded me a little too much of college. Bucky claimed the coffee table, his face plastered against the glass where his drool pooled. I smiled affectionately at the weary crew. Guarding my unpredictable ass was draining work. I'm glad they could let loose for one night at least.

I knelt beside Bucky, massaging his scalp, cooing for him to join me upstairs in a real bed. Wanda sighed and flopped onto the small space left by Natasha's feet on the cushion, massaging at temples too many shots made throb.

"How did he even get up there?" I asked, nodding towards Sam.

"I don't know. I went to the bathroom for two minutes and everyone was out. I think Sally actually went upstairs to find a real bed. You were asleep hours ago, though. Bit of a lightweight, eh?"

"It's been a few years since I visited the party scene."

A silence descended over us like shroud, clogging our vision of anything outside this room. The only light originated from a tiki torch flickering away behind the glass doors opening up to the beach. The ocean was unusually quiet tonight, along with the wildlife that routinely sang me to sleep. I straightened, stretching out my back as I walked to the ajar doors. The breeze caught at the sheer curtains, pushing them to wrap around my ankles and skim across my face. Still was never good on a coast; it meant an impending storm.

A shadow danced along the palm tree line, disappearing between the trunks and snatching the air right from my lungs. The curtains fell as still as death; the hell a sideways glance away from breaking loose. My hand wrapped around the doorknobs, closing the double doors in one swift motion and securing the locks. Wanda turned, curiosity drawing awareness back into her tired gaze.

"Wake the others," I whispered.

Like a frozen shower was descending over her, Wanda sobered and smacked Natasha's calf. The ginger lurched awake, pulling a gun from fuck knows where on her satin shorts and camisole set. "Situation status?" she demanded, eyes yet to pry themselves open.

Sam leapt from the roof beam, staggering only a few steps before righting himself and painting a serious expression over his drunken state. "What'dyousee?" he asked, words slurring together into one jumble.

"Is it Menzel? I'm ready to put one between her eyes." Natasha jumped over the back of the couch, striding past me to glare out the window, daring anyone stupid enough to approach her.

"It's not Menzel," Wanda whispered, voice tight with fear of the unknown wrapping around her throat. She hit Steve's shoulder and flipped Bucky off the table with just a twirl of her thumb. The pair grumbled complaints, but quickly shut up when they saw Natasha and Sam prowling the perimeter—seriously, where was everyone hiding these guns?

"It's not Menzel," I repeated. I would feel her. Wanda would be able to get in her mind. I backed to set my petite shoulders against Wanda's arm as we watched the back doors.

"What can you tell about this guy, then?" Steve called his shield with the technology strapped to his wrist and went to station himself beside Natasha in those clover boxers, guess no one would be getting lucky tonight.

"I…He's…He's not alive, not really," Wanda stammered, magic dancing chaotically around her hands, searching for a target.

"Don't use your powers, Rosales. Bucky, get her clear," Steve ordered.

The dark haired soldier's hand closed over my elbow, pulling me towards the stairwell. I jerked away, sensing the air cutting sharply out of the approaching hostile's path. I could draw up an image of him in my mind, the beefy shoulders, the torso built like a truck and thighs thicker than my waist. "He's not breathing!" I blurted.

"Asgardian? Enhanced? Someone tell me what we're dealing with here," Steve barked.

The glass doors exploded with all the force of a hurricane behind it. The left sent Natasha careening clear through the thin wall into the store front. The right merely knocked Steve back a few steps. Sam fired off a volley of bullets into the shadow that now occupied out doorway. The tiki torches had been snuffed out in his entrance, but the moonlight leaked past his frame, lighting up the determination on Steve's face as he squared off.

"Where is Joy?" the man asked, voice a startling soft tenor.

"Wouldn't we all like some of that. You need to search somewhere else, sir," Steve answered.

"Where is my Joy? Where is my wife!" The man thrust out his hand, and Steve went flying through the same wall Natasha had yet to reappear from. Their muffled voices mixed together as the three remaining Avengers launched their attack.

Before they made it three steps, all three hit their knees. The air was yanked from the room like a holy hand snatched it away. Bucky groped at his throat, whipping his head between where the man stood and where I remained upright. His face was a terrifying shade of purple and his muscles grew heavier with each moment that passed without oxygen.

"You're like me?" The man took a step closer to me when his abilities failed to cripple me.

Sam lashed out as the man passed by, only to be kicked in that face by a boot lined with a steel that echoed through the night. The storm raging drew me into the vacuum surrounding the intruder on feet that barely skimmed the ground.

"Joy Menzel? Your wife is Joy Menzel?" I murmured, holding out steadying hands between us. I sent breath to Bucky, Sam and Wanda, trying to keep them alive, but each push of my powers against his was like showing an anvil uphill under a downpour.

"Do you know where they took my Joy?"

"They don't really trust me with stuff like that, but they're good people who don't deserve to die. If you stop this, they can help you control it. I learned." If this was Menzel's husband, then I had been right about her needing me for personal reasons. I hadn't been her first subject. The formula she created for me was more refined, but still had side effects. Her husband was a dozen times more powerful than me and had a feral gleam in his tar eyes. She wanted the cure for him; to save the man she loved from himself.

In his distraction, Wanda sent a knife hurtling towards his gut. He stared mildly as it embedded just below his ribcage and pulled it out without even a bloodstain left in its wake. His hand whipped forward, dragging Wanda off the ground, body extended like a noose clung to her slim neck.

"Stop! Just stop!" I begged, putting myself between him and Wanda. Between where Sam and Bucky lay sprawled on the hardwood floor, chests convulsing for oxygen. "Let them breathe, please. Let them breathe and I'll take you to Menzel," I promised.

"You do not know. Why are you trying to trick me?" I don't think he meant to throw the knife. In his anger, the blade slipped from his wildly expressive hands and jammed into my left shoulder joint. There was no delay, no adrenaline surge that kept me from feeling the pain. It shattered every thought in my head and sent icy fire clambering throughout my limbs. I know I screamed only because the man jumped and held out his hands to me much like I'd done to placate him earlier. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry!" he gushed.

"I know!" Wanda choked, her face a color death himself would envy.

The man whirled towards her, his askew red hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. Wanda hit the ground, heaving hacking breaths into her lungs before she repeated herself. "I know where Menzel is. Let them live and I will take you to her."

He dropped the vacuum and I filled it instantly, making sure I felt four heartbeats before I slumped against the coffee table, consciousness swimming in and out of focus.

"You are like me too?" he asked in a small almost childlike voice.

"I'm Wanda. What's your name?"

"Hugh Menzel."

Wanda nodded slowly, forcing her shaky legs beneath her, nailing her unwavering gaze to his. "You take me and leave them. We have a deal?"

Hugh's attention shifted to me, guilt eroding away at the fury from before. The knife was yanked from my shoulder by an invisible hand and Wanda dove to staunch the bleeding with the heel of her palm. "Is this your way or trying to help?" she demanded.

"Help. I can help." Hugh knelt to pick both of us up in his meaty hands, throwing Wanda over one shoulder and cradling me against his chest. There was no thud from a heart beneath his ribcage, but my own thundered away, trying to replace the blood as quickly as it was lost.

"Haven?" Bucky sat up, eyes bloodshot, body swaying though the wind had vanished. Hugh tensed beneath me, ready to attack again.

"Go, just go," I whispered desperate to get this monster away from those I cared about.

Now we were the ones that were airborne. He flew through the night like Peter Pan in a search for his Neverland, though, I don't remember Wendy Darling bleeding all over the place when he whisked her away.

 **Well...! What do ya think? Got a new baddie to deal with and some relationship drama.**


	16. Traveler's Insurance

**Guess who's still alive! ME. Midterms just took my soul a little bit, but here's a little bit of heaven to make up for it! Let me hear your thoughts on it!**

"How many miles out?" Hugh asked, pacing the perimeter of the rocking boat's cabin. When consciousness returned to me, there were stiches in my shoulder, a sling binding it to my chest, and a pissed off Wanda feeding Hugh placating lies.

"About 400," Wanda replied, glaring at the hairbrush in her clenched hands. She was more likely to jam it into our captor's eye than attempt to detangle the mess our flight time caused her hair to become.

"So, when we arrive in Guatemala, we acquire our own vessel and sail out to find Joy?" he asked. He'd gone through this conversation three times since my waking and I was ready to stuff him out the port hole and run away with Wanda forever after the first go round.

"Yes," Wanda snapped; the hairbrush snapped in her hands as well, plastic splinters scattering to the stained carpet.

"Why can't you just fly us?" I asked, hoping to derail the conversation.

"I get tired." Hugh shrugged and sipped on the pink PowerAde cradled in his over-sized hands and flopped down to occupy the corner like a dejected child. I guess hauling around two women would be draining even for a zombie guy.

"Cool," I murmured.

When I tried to sit up pain said fuck you and Wanda pushed me back down into the single bed. "Lay still," she commanded. Her dark hair fanned around us, a canopy blocking out the hell I'd woken up in. Or maybe I was dead; she even smelled like an angel would.

"And it's called the Raft?" Hugh asked again.

"Yes. I would know. I've been there before," Wanda replied.

"Casual vacation?" I asked, putting as much pep into my voice as I could muster. The dire situation seemed to swallow it before it could even properly exit my mouth, however .

Wanda glanced down from beneath the hoodie pulled low over her eyes with a bemused expression fighting against the sobriety that threatened to drown us faster than the Gulf of Mexico battering away against the vessel beneath our feet. When had she changed from her matching silk pajama set into regular clothes? Where had she gotten them? More importantly, where were _my_ clothes? From what I could feel I wore only my panties and a tank top. They better not have thrown away my bra, that was my favorite work out bra, though the most extensive workouts I undertook were about on par with my between the sheets activities with Bucky.

 _Shit_ Bucky _._

"We fought," I muttered deliriously. There was some drug swimming around in my system that made honing in on any one thought an impossible task. "We fought and I don't even think I apologized. We were so drunk. Shit. A prison can't be a literal raft, right? That doesn't seem very effective."

Wanda swatted my good shoulder, ordering me to scoot over on the single bed. Aside from a recliner that leaned heavily to the right and a metal folding card table that was bolted down, the bed was the only furniture in the room. Her bootcut jeans scraped against my bare legs and I hissed as she knocked into my bad shoulder settling in. She lay on her side, body blocking Hugh from my view.

"I forget people need sleep," Hugh chuckled, awkwardly shuffling to the recliner which squeaked in complaint under his hefty weight.

"Of course he doesn't sleep," Wanda muttered darkly.

"You guys like ragtime?" he asked, producing a battered MP3 player from his coat pocket.

"Not so much," Wanda deadpanned.

"Got any white noise? Soothing forest or ocean sounds? That always helps me fall right asleep," I input.

"I'll just be quiet." Hugh hooked up a set of headphones and leaned back until the back of his chair let out a crack and gave way. He would have toppled completely out of it if the wall hadn't caught his progress. He offered a thumbs up and I had to snatch Wanda's hand to keep her from flipping him off in return.

We lay as still as stone for a good half hour, her too tense to sleep and me fighting the urge to throw up whatever medicine they'd coaxed into me every time I shut my eyes. I shifted on my back, blowing a huff of air up towards the glitter covered ceiling. The sheets felt like sand paper scraping me raw and my arm throbbed like the knife was still jammed in there. Finally, unable to take the silence, I peeked over her hip, making certain Hugh was entirely engrossed in his century old music. With a flop, I settled back down and met emerald eyes sharper than any weapon forged by man. Wanda was forged from the tesseract. I was created by an Asgardian, and yet somehow we were both still prisoners.

"How long have we been on this ship?" I asked softly, not trusting the ability of his shabby headphones to completely block out sound.

"9 hours. Can you incapacitate him?" she asked quickly.

"Can he be incapacitated? Also, probably no. Were you there when I faced off against him in Florida? I'm pretty sure if either one of us sneeze funny, this entire ship will go down because he will lose his goddamn mind."

She scowled, putting her hands under her head in a praying position, though it was more likely she was cursing Hugh than asking for sovereign help. "I didn't look like you were doing much of anything except standing there," she clipped.

"Ok, wow thanks. You can take him on yourself since I'm even more useless injured."

"Haven…" she sighed tiredly. I rolled onto my good side, facing away from her, nose pressed against the cool wall. "Do you get the feeling he's not all there?"

"He's dead, of course not."

"Well, I mean, you're still _human._ I'm still me. He's…he's a shadow, one who can't tell right from wrong. He didn't mean to stab you and I can't figure out whether that terrifies me more or less."

"He's a fucking pansy who can't function without his wife. You're not actually leading him to the Raft, are you?"

"Of course not. I won't let him set that maniac loose or anyone else in there. Tony wanted you put in there when we first captured you. That's why it took us so long to get anything accomplished. That place is for the truly evil and you had a few people still on your side."

"Aww, Wanda, you believed in me?" I fluttered my eyelashes.

"If I believed you were evil, what would I think of myself?"

I dabbed at fake tears and she just shook her head.

"Sally told me Menzel imprinted on me, or me on her. I'm not really sure how that works. But maybe Hugh is drawn to her as well. His powers are stronger than mine, so why not that too?"

"Are we telling ghost stories?" Hugh popped up from behind Wanda. She shrieked and barely staved herself from blasting him through the wall.

"Hugh, how are you so quiet? You are literally the size of a boulder. Huge Hugh, this is girl talk. Go back to your ancient tunes," I scolded, much like a mother, a drugged up mother because he was almost toddler-like in his mannerisms.

He sulked off with a pout pushing out his lower lip. Wanda's muscles did not relax a hair and I began wondering how they didn't cramp from the exertion. After a few minutes, the fresh scent from Wanda's hair along with the soothing rocking motion from the ship on a calmed sea lulled me if not into sleep, then at least a suspended state of time.

* * *

 _Frost coated me carried on every wind from the four corners of the globe and I stood in a still expanse of nothingness—an earth with no sky, no grass, no anything. If I was dead, then I expected a few more male celebrities to roam about before I accept my eternal home._

" _It_ was _you," Bucky's voice breathed from directly behind me, voice slicking down my neck with a welcome heat wave._

 _I spun on my heel, thanking God for at least one pretty face in this nothingness._

" _When I was in cryofreeze, I dreamt of a woman, but I never saw her face. It was you, wasn't it? How did you do that? How are you here?" he questioned._

 _I shrugged._

" _You know what? Never mind. Where are you and Wanda? Are you hurt? Do you have anything that can help us take Avatar Frankenstein down?"_

" _I'm very proud of you for that pop-culture reference."_

" _Sam's calling him that," Bucky grinned sheepishly._

" _He said something about Guatemala and I know we're on a boat. He wants to be taken to the Raft, but Wanda told me we're now hosting the world's biggest wild goose chase so look for us anywhere else," I advised._

" _You realize Guatemala is a whole country, right?" Bucky asked. "Also, I don't know how we're doing this or how to reach you again. Because you had me take your goddamn bracelet off. We kept it on for a reason."_

" _I didn't force you too, Buck."_

" _You're reckless and irresponsible and being around you makes me behave similarly."_

 _Maybe it was just the worry about my safety talking. Maybe he truly blamed me for what happened. Either way, I dropped it. There was no telling how much time we had and getting into that fight again would do us no good._

" _It might be the pain meds allowing us to communicate. I could only reach out to you when you were in cryofreeze. Maybe they mimic that state of stasis. Of course, you weren't breathing, so it was sort of like you were dead. Oh god, I hope I'm not dying."_

" _Pain meds?"_

" _You don't remember me getting stabbed?"_

" _Fuck,_ what _!_ _I don't really remember much after I was, you know, suffocated," Bucky said._

" _Oh, well that happened."_

" _I'm gonna kill him." Bucky didn't seethe or fume with anger. It was just a statement, a plain fact. He would kill Hugh for hurting his friends, for hurting me. And as much as I cared for my sweet protective Bucky, the dark acceptance I felt rippling off him made me take a step away._ _I guess, I unconsciously pulled away too, because he began to blur around the edges._

" _Are you waking up?" he blurted quickly._

" _Yeah," I lied._

 _And he was gone and I was left alone to a dreamless sleep._


	17. No Shows

**PHEW! I know it's been a while and I do apologize. I have been juggling this with some new obsessions, but no worries. Here is the next chapter for your reading pleasures! Hit me up with your thoughts and don't forget to check out the multitude of other stories on my blog. All my love and a happy new year.**

San Juan rose up before me as a series of merchant shops and exquisite hotels mixed with lush green landscape, beckoning me in. A cool ocean spray at my back pushed me along. The threat of a lethal explosion from Hugh kept Wanda and I in line. Her shoulder pressed into my bicep the entire walk down the peer because this was not Guatemala. Hugh had intentionally deceived us and now the Avengers would be looking for us in the wrong goddamn country.

"Excuse me, sir." Hugh flagged down a young spritely man with a spit of dark hair on his head.

He was leaned over a fishing vessel, hauling out his catch of the day, a net flopping with colorful fish.

Hugh stooped to help him and Wanda whipped towards me, he ponytail of brown hair a snake curling dangerously beneath her ball cap. "We need to get somewhere with the internet," she whispered.

There was no use in telling her of my telepathic communication with Bucky last night because it was null and void now. Our best plan of action was to contact rescuers the old fashioned way and pray they had cooked up a plan to control Hugh. For now, our mission had to be placating and stalling him.

"My arm could hurt. Could be infected," I offered. "Can you make him see blood?" I asked.

"Mind tricks only work on those whose minds aren't already decaying," Wanda clipped.

"You want to go to the heart of the Bermuda, amigo?" the fisherman's voice jumped up a mix of amusement and fear. "No can do."

Hugh's face darkened, and the sea breeze picked up for a terrifying heartbeat before settling into its normal beating against the hulls of docked ships. He turned to us and Wanda jabbed my side painfully.

"I'm not feeling too hot," I said, making a show of swaying on my feet.

"How? It's so warm out. I am sweating in places I did not know one could. Of course, I was born in Canada and you are of the tropical variety," Hugh replied.

What was I, a fruit?

"She looks a little pale. Wouldn't you agree?" Wanda asked, placing her cool hands against my forehead.

"By my comparison, she is the darkest of us."

Hugh is fucking useless. I stirred the trees behind him, making their long palm leaves whack at the back of his thighs for a distraction. Wanda raised both eyebrows curiously at me while I drew a steading breath. How much force does it take to tear stitches? With a jerk of my arm, blood seeped through the bandage and I cried out in true pain. Now, the world did pitch sideways and I fell hard on my ass.

"She's bleeding!" Wanda declared just in case Hugh's simple brain couldn't grasp _this_ situation.

"Where's the nearest hospital?" Hugh whirled on the fisherman he'd previously engaged in conversation.

"Five miles up that road. There's a better one more inland, but that looks serious. How did it happen?" he asked.

Hugh was picking me up in his hulking arms, thankfully ignoring the inquisitive nature of the man. Wanda raced into the street, hailing the first cab that drove past. She climbed into the front seat, instructing the man on where to go while Hugh cradled me in the back. I fought to keep seeing straight, to not let Hugh's pudgy, ruddy cheeks morph into the pale complexion of one Sergeant Barnes. I had to keep my wits about me. I had to keep conscious for Wanda's sake. Maybe I should have gone a little easier on my shoulder.

The race to the hospital passed in the time it took for me to blink my heavy eyelids. There was no surge of paramedics who raced out to meet us. Only a doorman who lazily held the splintering wooden door open more for a draft than to benefit any person needing quick transportation.

Hugh swept me up, my own personal gurney and sprinted inside, not the best idea for my deteriorating focus.

The waiting room consisted of five total chairs, all in grave disrepair; it would be a marvel if they supported any normal human's weight. The wallpaper was water stained and the carpeted floor was in grave need of a good scrubbing. A man sporting a beer belly and smelling of the native liquor hovered in a corner squinting at a mound of papers, trying to decipher the medical questions on them.

"Help!" Hugh pleaded to the receptionist.

She had a veil of dark hair cascading to cover her face and two pens tucked away between her lips while she was pressed nose to screen against the computer. She glanced up, bored, glanced down, and tapped away at her keyboard. "Name," she requested.

Hugh reared back, a bear about to lash out. Wanda slid between the two, placing a gentle, tolerate smile on her lips. "I can handle the paperwork if you let my friend go ahead and bring her back," she said.

The receptionist sighed and pointed to the double doors located to her right. "Bring her to the nurse. She'll find the doctor on duty and get you situated. You, miss, get this ten page packet. I hope you know everything about the patient."

I glanced worriedly at Wanda while Hugh bustled to get me to medical attention. She nodded confidently before the doors shut between us.

What I remember from the impromptu doctor's visit involved a multitude of needles varying in thickness, some reminded me more of a link of sausage than something meant to go into my skin. Hugh hovered the entire goddamn time, his hot breath acting like an unfortunate version of smelling salts keeping me painfully conscious.

"This was sloppily done. Were the sewing tools even disinfected? Look at this right here. If she hadn't torn the stitches, that infection could have spread and killed her. It's a miracle it remained dormant for as long as it did. You have an impossible immune system." The doctor was way too knowledgeable to have ended up in such a run down facility, but maybe she liked the slow pace around here; I suppose her rapid manner of speaking made up for that. Of course, I understood every word of this. Hugh just turned to me, eyes wide without understanding while the doctor babbled away in Spanish. I translated, focusing on that instead of the scalpel scraping away the deadened skin.

The procedure was fairly short and I prayed Wanda had managed to send out some sort of distress signal with the one computer in this place in the limited time frame. As the doctor began cleaning her work area and supplies, Hugh clasped two hands on either of her slim shoulders, startling the woman. Instead of jerking away, the doctor just smiled tiredly. She was not afraid of him. The action was one of innocence, one from someone who didn't know the levels of destruction Hugh was capable of. It gave me pause along with Hugh's next struggled words.

"Gracias," he botched the pronunciation and looked to me for approval.

I nodded a quick encouragement and Hugh pulled away shyly.

"De nada amigos." He turned to me, giving the instructions on how to get discharged and passing a prescription for painkillers into my hands.

Hugh walked closely to me while we made our way back to the front desk. Wanda glanced up from a housekeeping magazine, satisfied smirk hidden behind pursed lips.

"Everything go well?" she asked.

"Yes," Hugh patted my back, smiling easily. "I think it best we find a place to slumber this eve. Perhaps we will find a boat master to transport us with the new day."

"Good plan."

* * *

The motel we ended up at boasted of a Las Vegas theme, the walls painted with chipping silver, the floor covered with a lethal red carpet. Hugh busied himself with playing on the rigged slot machine positioned between the two queen beds instead of a nightstand.

I requested a bath to wash away the grime accumulated from the city and Wanda volunteered to make sure I didn't drown. Hugh happily agreed, mind preoccupied with the prospect of being reunited with his wife with the coming sun.

As I sat in the lukewarm bath water, careful to keep my wound above the surface, Wanda traced her fingers over the shower curtain dividing me from where she lounged on the other side.

"You got the word out?" I whispered.

Her shadow dipped a nod. The sink water pounded away at full blast in the background, drowning out whatever words we spoke.

"Told Roma, that was the secretary's name, I told her that there was some kid out back vomiting everywhere. She was reluctant to go, but I persuaded her a little bit." Magic danced between her fingers. "I sent an email to Stark's company. He should be here shortly. Hopefully he has a sedative for the beastie."

I kept quiet, agreeing, but unsure how that settled with me any longer. Hugh reminded me of Bucky in a sense, pre the cure. Meaning well, but completely out of control of his actions. His heart was good and I was too damn forgiving. Maybe that part of my nature would take a bite out of my ass one day, but for now I couldn't imagine hurting the big lug more than necessary.

"We're gonna get out of here," Wanda said, interpreting my silence as fear instead of unease.

"I miss Seattle," I murmured. "I know it was just a hiatus of sorts, but it was the safest I've felt in a long time. You may have weirded me out, but I knew you meant good. You're kick ass.

I heard the smile in her voice when she responded. "Wish I was useful now."

"Are you kidding? You're the only one who's done something productive. The only thing I've accomplished is bleeding everywhere."

"You keep him calm. I don't know how. I couldn't do it. I don't know how you keep calm. My insides feel like I swallowed a bottle of poison."

"Did you ever meet Hasina? T'challa's little Zen warrior."

"I don't think I was given the pleasure."

"Well, she helped with that. Also I almost destroyed Wakanda, so I had to get a reign on my emotions. That was embarrassing. I keep calm, I keep in control. Also, I trust you to watch my back, so I'm not terribly worried."

She pushed back the curtain just enough to meet my gaze, green eyes sparkling with the precarious peace of our little shared oasis. She reached out her hand and I took it in a firm grip. We stayed there until I was wrinkled and the contained heat made her begin to perspire. Even then, we hesitated to leave and enter the too real situation waiting for us. But we had each other, and we would get through this. I couldn't sense fear like her, but I knew neither of us would let it overpower us, not when we could lean on each other.


	18. Grounded

**A gift for my gifts. Seriously, I love my readers and I love this character, so give her some love. Reviews definitely help me post faster, so let's do the math real quick. :)**

Something was wrong and it wasn't the overly ripe fruit Wanda and I feigned interest in. Our distress message should have hit the airwaves over 24 hours ago, which means the Avengers should be beating down our back door if not whisking us away to safety by now.

Hugh had harassed just about every man, woman, humanoid that looked like they had access to a boating vessel. The closest he got was a cute, pudgy old woman slipping him her phone number. I gently tried to explain the true purposes of the paper and he hastily called an end to our day's quest.

Of the food Wanda and I managed to acquire from the fresh market, the fresh fish tasted the best. The coffee beans we purchased were so caffeinated, she actually choked on it. I tried to warn her before the purchase, but she claimed she didn't care at the time. Now, she thrust the steaming mug at me, poking at her scalded tongue miserably.

"It's stronger in Costa Rica," I told her. "You should go to Guatemala one day. I swear my taste buds died and visited heaven there." I finished off the coffee quickly.

Hugh laid back on the bed, headphones turned up so loud, the soothing music filled the rest of the room too.

"How's your shoulder?" Wanda asked.

"Not in the mood to revisit the doctor. They'll come. There was probably just a complication. Like Sam had to stop and fix his hair or Natasha had to kill someone who looked at her wrong."

Wanda ran her hands through her hair, pushing it off her face and hanging her head. "Or we're on our own. We need a backup plan. In case they don't come."

"Mezel created him. She's the only one that knows how to undo it."

"So, maybe we take him to her," Wanda suggested.

I blinked at her and swallowed a bewildered laugh. "You're not serious."

"No. That's insane. They would just off us both and run away with each other. So we get our own boat, get him in the middle of nowhere, throw him overboard."

"Hurricanes on every coast surrounding that ocean."

"We could play dead. Get some poison that slows heartbeats."

"Like Romeo and Juliet? That's so romantic Wanda. I didn't know you felt that way," I cooed.

A light flashed in the window. Wanda shot to her feet, eyes flying wide with hope. Hugh was already at the door, shaggy hair hanging in his face, only one earbud removed as if the threat of discovery was only a mild disturbance to his nightly routine. Wanda and I slid behind him, ready to back up our friends who took their sweet ass time.

Hugh pulled back the door and two uniformed officers moved the flashlight to shine in his face.

"Policía. Nombres, por favor. Identificación y el propósito." Definitely _not_ the Avengers.

When all Hugh did was stare them down, I stepped in the middle, knowing full well my only identification was the rough sketch Wanda did of me posing while bored one morning.

Unfortunately, the night I visited the dead realm and gained my powers, I wasn't given time to grab my passport from my lingerie drawer.

"Que pasa? Turistas," I pointed between us.

A paper was being thrust into my hands. An email. An intercepted email intended for Tony Stark. I glanced up at Wanda sadly, resolving myself for the hell that was about to break out.

The taller woman, the one with the higher ranking and pristine uniform pointed to Wanda accusingly. "Avenger," she said clearly. "Criminal."

I sighed and Hugh's eyes flashed. That was when my eardrums felt like they imploded. The burst of pressure was like squeezing a water bottle too tight. It sent the police officers flying out the door, flipping over the balcony railing and down onto the car parked beneath. The car alarm joined the sirens already cutting through the night. At least ten police cars blocked off the exit and filled the parking lot. Twice as many armed officers were positioned below, their guns aimed and their jaws slack as they looked at their dead co-workers.

"Hugh," I snatched his arm, feeling the jolt of power emanating from his rage snatch my breath away. Breath I didn't need. "Let Wanda compel them to leave. She can…"

"She is the reason we were discovered," Hugh growled darkly. The dopey, almost kind man had vanished in the vortex of his power. The serum ate the man up and spat out only the effects it desired, things that I had to fight against every day: no control, rampant emotions, and loneliness. That last one threatened to swallow me whole more frequently than its counterparts.

"Ok. Ok. So Wanda stays here. But let me convince them to leave then. They're already scared. It won't take much," I pleaded.

His head dipped in hesitation, his eyes zeroing in on my hand and where it touched his forearm. "Go," he barked.

Pants would be an optimal thing to have right now, especially with what appeared to be the entire San Juan police force staring up at me-straight up my t shirt. They did not let me get a word out before orders to put my hands on my head and get to my knees were shouted out. I raised my right arm, palm flat to show some semblance of peace while the wind whipped between my legs like a coiling snake ready to lash out once again. My left arm followed suit slower, the stitches in my shoulder singing out complaints as I dared to move it.

"Please. If you leave us alone, no one will be harmed," I called in their native tongue. Lost in translation was the last thing we had time for.

"Bring out the others!" a voice clipped in clear English. Apparently that was their plan too.

"You've seen what they can do. Just leave!" I pleaded.

My vision was wobbling, my body swaying in a breeze that normally would not touch it. My left arm dropped unceremoniously, numbing pain spiking in clusters all around the wound. My right arm moved to cradle it. That's when the gunshot exploded, my eardrums too probably. There was no adrenaline to keep the bullet hole from registering, no moment where I just watched the blood trickle in disbelief.

I was slammed with the force of it against the wall, screaming as my injury was ripped clean open. Was there seriously _no_ other place I could have been shot?

Hugh exploded from inside then. Bullets cut through the air, meandering to slow stops and dropping to the ground when they neared him. He knelt across from me, face stricken, entire body slumped inward like I was his favorite Lego construction and they had just knocked me to pieces.

"Mercy?" He whispered.

I might have thought it a true question, but he said it with the same conviction with which he uttered his wife's name.

"Oh, my sweet, Mercy. What have they done to you?" His hands were pressing over the blood flow, stealing the white hot heat away, and leaving behind only a dull throbbing.

I gaped at the newly healed shoulder. Blood stained half of my body, but there was no longer a source. Somehow, his ability to selfheal had been extended to me. And now, he swayed like I had earlier, weakened from the exertion.

Red encased us, a glass shell cutting out the entire outside world. Wanda clasped her hands around Hugh's head, taking advantage of his powerless state to render him unconscious. He hit the ground like a bag of cement and let out a pathetic whimper. Wanda raced to me next, searching for any potential threat. Finally, hands as red as the rest of me, she cupped my face and let a relieved smile cross her lips.

"I'm going to turn us in," she said.

"Can you request prison cells with Wi-Fi?" I mumbled.

"Somehow, I think this will draw the attention of our friends."

She turned, hands high, surrender on her tongue.

 **PS-I'm as anxious as y'all to see how this story ends. :D**


	19. Stand By

**I'm spoiling you guys, aren't I? Or maybe not because things just keep getting worse for Haven. I know you guys miss Bucky, but just hold on. He'll kinda be back in two chapters. Gotta get through all the actual plot stuff first (gross). But I do love writing her friendship with Wanda. Figured it was time for some girl power time. Anyway, let me hear your comments, thoughts, random things that don't even relate!**

While orange admittedly was one of the more flattering colors on my skin, it did little to compliment the angry red hue to Wanda's cheeks. Hugh was unconscious somewhere else in the compound, kept sedated by enough drugs to kill a full grown elephant. I had glimpsed the solitary medical unit while being escorted to my own cell block.

"One phone call. That's all I ask. What do I get? Smacked on the wrist for speaking," Wanda complained, voice elevating on the last bit so that the guard who wronged her would undoubtedly hear. Now the red danced into her eyes dangerously, magic swirling beneath the surface, threatening to get out.

I stuck my hand through the prison bars, beckoning her and her relentless pacing over. She collapsed on the floor beside my bed, head resting on the metal bars that separated our cells. She took my hand briefly before reclaiming it and combing her hair away from her face. She grunted and leaned to rest her chin on her fists.

"This was stupid. I know. I'm sorry. But I saw the gunshot and an opening and I panicked. You need to get that shoulder bullet proofed, by the way."

"Fucking tell me about it," I grumbled.

A faint smile pulled at her lips, warding off the dark thoughts that spun above her on angry clouds. I leaned my head against the cool bars now too, sweat tickling a path between my breast and down my back. It was hot enough without thick slabs of concrete walls to seal the heat in even further. I considered stripping off the prison suit entirely, filling the sink up with water and just curling my body into it.

"In Sokovia, our hottest summer would still require tights and a jacket."

"I have no excuse. I grew up with Christmases toastier than this. California made me weaker."

"You are the strongest person I know," she murmured.

"I don't know, I think Nat could beat me in arm wrestling."

Wanda sighed, crossing her legs and letting her head thump back against the wall, eyes staring unfocused up at the ceiling. "Strong of will. You know what you want and you push for it even if it might be wrong."

"That ended me up in prison. Twice now, actually. I don't think that strategy is faring very well for me. Though, I will give Tony's prison props for decoration and entertainment."

A wry smile picked at her lips. "If help does not come by tonight, then one of us must go get it. The Raft is located west not east and it is only a short boat ride away. 40 knots out directly from the port we entered in. You have to go find Menzel. You must get the cure from her."

"You know she can control me right? You'd be the safer bet for this journey. And if I stay, at least I stand a chance against…Yeah. And he kept calling me that weird name and frankly I think I mean something to him. So as much as I would enjoy putting an ocean between me and that bipolar bastard…"

"Yeah." Wanda finished, licking her chapped lips. She swallowed and continued with a scraggly voice. "So, we're decided?"

I dipped a nod and flinched as our neighbor started up some racket about his favorite radio station not being broadcasted over the speakers. In the absence of her daily late night talk show, I turned to Wanda with an impish grin on my lips.

"Say, Delilah?" I asked.

"Yes, dear?" she replied instantly in the soft, sing song voice of the radio host.

"I'd like to request a song for my grandma this evening. She's celebrating her newly refurbished house, doilies included and I just want to let her know how much I love her."

"Well of course. And I'm sure she knows. This one goes out to Haven's nana." She cleared her throat and hit the next note she belted rather expertly. "And I-eeeee-I will always love you!" I backed her up with the appropriate ohs and ahs and our appreciative listener even chimed in with her own set of harmonies.

A sharp wrap of a baton against my door abruptly ended the chorus of voices and a series of boos from the other cellmates picked up. The guard scowled at us, pulling her fingers across her lips in a silencing motion before marching away. I collapsed back onto my mattress, more spring than padding, and allowed laughter to strip away the misery that previous threatened to swallow me whole. Wanda was doubled over, hysterical and wiping tears from her eyes as the brief moment of carelessness blocked out everything else.

I did not realize silence had lapsed until it rammed into my ears like the loud screech of sechatas. Wanda glanced over, once against solemn, though hope now clung to the rims of her pale green eyes. "You miss him," she stated.

"I'm gonna pretend I don't know who you're referencing," I clipped.

"I know you fought. The night before we were taken. I felt the tension between you two. But I also know you say his name in your sleep."

"That's weird. I've been dreaming about Channing Tatum," I grumbled.

She rolled to her knees, grabbing the bars and glaring down at me through the slits. "You love him," she said.

"So?"

"Don't try to deny this, Haven. I can read emotions. You know that. And you…so?" she repeated. I shrugged as a triumphant grin plastered her dimples into her cheeks. "So, you faced your fear?" she said.

"Yeah. It was a blast. Like jumping into a volcano and hoping I didn't get burned. Love sucks."

"And you love me," she continued.

"Fine! Ok. You're my friend. Bucky is my boyfriend. Excuse me for using my heart."

"Stop being so dramatic. It's a good thing. It'll stabilize your powers. Just…no more offering yourself up as sacrifice. We get it. You don't value your own life. No need to keep proving it. Getting shot by those police was, what, the third time in the past few weeks?"

"Can't help it. Near death gets me off."

Wanda frowned at the deadpanned humor just as an animalistic howl cut through the sparsely occupied hallways, sending prisoners cowering in the far corners of their cells and police officers froze in their patrols. The young guard who had swatted Wanda and silenced them appeared with trembling in her knees and an ignorant determination in the set of her young brow. Her back was to her charges and her gun wavered in the air she was more likely to hit one of her commanding officers than the source of the horrendous noise.

I knew what had made it, however. No matter what human medicines they put into Hugh, he was beyond mortal reach. And now he was awake and _livid._

"Rosa!" I hissed, throwing myself against the bars to warn her off, to tell her to run while she could.

She barked at me to get away, sweat dribbling off her cheek to fall on the badge where I had read her name.

"He will kill you!" Wanda put in.

As if summoned by the mere mention of him, Hugh lumbered down the hallway, feet dragging with him a bloody trail. The darkness of his eyes seeped into every crevice of his body and seemed to drip off his fingertips like living shadows; he was lost in the void and moments away from taking every living soul down with him.

"Hey," I said, voice wavering like a boat on the rocky waters he'd created. "You're ok. We're ok. You want to find Joy? We can go do that. We don't have to hurt anyone, ok?"

He blinked at me, body trembling as he fought for control. "You look so much like your mother, Mercy," he mumbled, the soft tinge to his voice leaking through the obsidian surface.

Mother? There was that name again. Was Mercy his daughter? Did he think I was his daughter?

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to stand down," Rosa instructed. Though her English was clear, she was pale enough to pass for the dead herself.

Her voice broke my calming influence on Hugh and a current of air thrust Rosa back against the cell bars. Wanda snatched her in that same moment, using her powers to hurl the girl down an adjacent hall and out of immediate danger. The air crackled with energy, hers clashing against Hugh's as the bars to her cell bent out of his way. "You set me up," he whispered. "You sent that email. You tried to kill me."

"Fuck," Wanda said, lashing out in defense. Her blows staggered her more than him.

"Hugh stop!" I screamed, clawing at my own cell, willing the metal to yield for me like it had him.

"I'm sorry, Mercy. I know she was your friend." Hugh's hand curled around Wanda's jaw, her breath fleeing from her, leaving veins buldging in her temples. She was dying. My friend was slowly suffocating the way I had. Unlike me however, she would not be waking up if her eyes shut.

There was a scream that made the edges of my vision blur just slightly. Only afterwards did I realize it was the wind, cutting clean through the metal divider, barreling into Hugh with the full force of a category five hurricane. He was knocked backwards one step and the exertion on my part left me doubled over and wheezing for breath of my own. Now blackness danced in and out of my vision, and my muscles refused to acknowledge the orders of my brain.

"I know where the prison is. Wanda told me a few minutes ago. We don't need her we can go get Men…mother ourselves. We can be a family again." Lying had always come far too easily to me.

The current plan was to get him away from as many people as possible, then somehow manage to incapacitate him. Maybe sink him to the bottom of the ocean and pray the lack of air down there would be enough to keep him unconscious for a few centuries. Hugh touched my cheek tenderly and it took every smidge of my remaining self-control not to recoil. I glanced to Wanda's limp form, her barely focused gaze. The plan we had made was already going to hell, why not take a little vacation there myself?

"Family," Hugh repeated, scooping me in his arms and flying us clean through the weak ceiling.

Wanda would throw a fit when she woke up and remembered I had traded myself for her. She would skin my ass if I managed to keep this shit from hitting the fan. But she had been right. She was my friend and I could do something to save her so I _did._


	20. Direct Flight

**Short but necessary. One week in and I'm already swimming in exams. :) Don't worry, I know plot stuff is boring, so I promise one Avenger will return next chapter with cameos from at least two two other (including one Sargent Barnes)!**

The sea breeze was too contaminated with water for my taste. It sprayed up from the boat I rode in, the one a cranky old fishing geezer had reluctantly rented out to Hugh after the displaying of a pouch stocked with coinage that may or may not have been swiped from a local retail shop that looked like they could hardly spare it. Hugh, however, was not in a mood to care. He was in no mood at all from what I could tell. He kept muttering nonsense under his breath, fidgeting every so often like he might take a swing at me, though I was the one leading us to what remained of his family.

"Little father daughter fishing trip?" the fisherman who had identified himself as Fernando asked.

"Sure," I muttered, eyes fixed on the steady horizon.

"I've got two girls myself. Right joys they are. I was out fishing all night with not a bite. Promised them I'd be back at sunrise so I could see them off to school…but helping you folks out is just as important. I can't believe your mom is stranded all the way out here."

Hugh had basically strong-armed this man into taking us out on the too still water and here he was completely unphased by the unstable monster of a man he had accepted onto his vessel.

The whole conversation flew clear over Hugh's head because the man not only spoke in Spanish, but with an accent so thick even I stumbled over a few words. Hugh threw a glance in my direction, helpless confusion scrunching his freckled features into one big glob. "How much longer, do you think?" He asked in a small voice that reminded me too much of a child. I did not answer him, because if I did, if I thought too hard about his motives and not his means, then I might just feel a shard of pity for the pitiful excuse for a human. And shards of glass tended to cut deeper and more unseen than their more intimidating counterparts.

"I don't remember that dingy," Fernando commented. It was a stark black against a horizon of melodramatic blues as opposed to the typical red buoys boasted.

Hugh was on the feet, pitching the boat so far towards my side that we took on a sip of water. Fernando barked at him with words that had me grimacing from second-hand embarrassment. "Joy?" Hugh spoke aloud. He whipped to face me. "I heard her. She's here. You were right!"

He was hugging me, lifting me clear off the ground and grinning so wide it threatened to split his face into two equally disturbing halves. With begrudging finality, I was set down and Hugh spun in a circle to orient himself. "I have to go get her. I…Where is she? It should be right here."

I paused, breathing in the sharp ocean air, tracing the peculiar pockets of pure air to their source—the buoy. I could trace the vents down, down, all the fucking way down hundreds of feet below us to where they ended in a big open space that could only be The Raft. "I'll go," I muttered, reaching to anchor us to the dingy with my hand as we drifted by.

"I need to see her," Hugh argued.

"You will. I can get her out without raising alarms or killing anyone, though. So, you and Fernando keep each other company and I'll be right back."

Fernando perked up at his name and I translated the major points to him. He smiled, patting Hugh between the shoulders with a friendly manner that made the mammoth of a man relax if only by a hair.

I manipulated the air around the opening, pushing against the lever that had the hidden door giving way and granting me entrance. I swung from the boat, landing on the solid metal floor with a thud. Fernando had begun praying and Hugh was bouncing his legs anxiously.

It was unsettling how quiet the compound was. No alarms, no activity, no inmates demanding TV or food. My hand pressed the descent button and the roof was sealed, cutting off my access to immediate clean air. A swallow banished the panic successfully to my stomach as the floor literally dropped out, taking me along with it. My ears popped at least three times before doors swooshed open, leading into a control room. Full of sleeping people?

The laser form a gun met her chest and she followed it back to the one person still standing. Menzel was in a blue jumpsuit with her golden hair sheered and feet bare. Her eyes jumped about like a dazed animal, fingers itching to put someone else down.

"How did you open that door?" Menzel demanded.

"I pressed the button? How did you get out? I thought this place was supposed to neutralize your abilities."

"Earth technology can only control me for so long."

"Seems the door stumped you. How long have you been free?"

"An hour. A few days. There's no bloody way to tell. I don't know how Rogers did this the first time the damned door only opens from the outside."

"Maybe he propped it open. Guy is resourceful. Anywho, your husband has gone absolutely ape shit crazy and dragged me out here to save you. Consider yourself saved, by the way. He's also gotten me stabbed and shot and done both to the Avengers who I only just made nice with. Then he kidnapped me, twice. So, I've decided I like you better than him."

Her gun hit the floor, firing off at the far wall. She did not even flinch as it ricocheted about the room. Exhaustion already drained her youthful features, but now something new set in, something I recognized because it had been drowning me these past few days. "Hugh is loose?" she whispered through a tight voice.

"Loose as in he was caged? I mean that's smart and all, but isn't he your husband?"

"My husband is dead. That thing is what I created in trying to bring him back. What I created before you. You were me trying to make modifications to the formula. When that still did not stabilize him, I began working on another. Something to return him to his state of peace."

"You mean something to un-zombie him. Were you going to use it on me as well?"

"Yes. And I needed your blood to create it. If there was equipment I would seal us in here. I would fashion it right now so that the earth was not punished with another day of him. But I have nothing I need, except you."

"So sweet. How about a deal?"

Her head lulled without amusement.

"I hold this door open long enough for you to get out. You put down crazy pants and let me continue on."

"You're a threat. My responsibility."

"I've got a handle on it," I snapped.

"I will evaluate the situation later. After we deal with the monster. Right now we must go placate him."

"And then what?"

"And then you get to go home."

 **Tell me your thoughts! Tell me about your days! Please love me and be my friend. :D**


	21. Lost Cabin Pressure

**I passed a test this week and am currently still breathing, so both are reasons to celebrate! Be on the look out for a new Bucky oneshot I'm posting later too!**

Home consisted of the blow out shell of a house, a few overgrown crop fields, and a refrigerator that surprisingly still worked. It was the barn out back where they made camp. Menzel had her eye plastered to the microscope while her other machines whirled away concocting their latest attempt at a "cure." That's what they told Hugh it was at least. The elimination formula was the first one she had perfected as a break in case of emergency plan. Well, if this wasn't one, I was an Avenger.

Menzel had been in that position for hours. She was definitely Asgardian because any human's back would have broken by now. Hugh was entranced in his music, swinging from the tire hung in the middle of the stabled. The door was immediately to my right where I reread over Menzel's old research. It was fragmented and alarmingly delusional for pages on end. If a psychologist ever wanted a look into how the mind of an alien functioned, this was the book to read. Well, one of a series. I was only on the fifth but an entire stack still awaited under where my feet propped up.

I could run away. Menzel would not surface from her own head for several hours. I knew the nearest gas station and the cute geezer who operated it. I could fly away and be safe faster than they could miss me. But then my eyes fell to the cotton swag taped to my inner elbow. The world without Hugh would be a safer place and I could help create that.

So I would.

Something caught her gaze, a miscalculation that affected the outcome of one of the initial ingredients. Surely, Menzel corrected since the date of two years ago.

"Hey," I called. No reply from either of the crazy bunch. "Oh no! I'm losing control. I feel the awful power taking over. Oh!" I feigned swaying on my feet. Still nothing.

I huffed and marched over to Menzel, jamming the torn notebook page between her eye and her work. She blinked, swiped it from me and finally looked up. Settling her glasses back onto her nose and squinted at the near illegible handwriting. "What, Rosales?"

"Do numbers work different on Asgard? Because the chemical mixture you wrote here has composition similar to that of soil. I know because I ordered it all the time to cultivate the fields."

"No. No. I used this a thousand times. I can't have been that careless. I…" she rubbed at her forehead, pulling the blue vial from its place on the rack. "I have to get to work. Bless you, Rosales."

A kiss was pressed to my cheek before she set into a new flurry of mad-sciencing. "Why aren't you fighting me? Why are you helping at all?" Menzel asked as she sought out her supplies.

"Someone told me I should trust what I'm feeling back when you were manipulating me. It was kinda hard to tell what I wanted from what you wanted me to do."

"Didn't have a choice. It was you or the world. This someone the one that you're connected to?"

"I mean we slept together."

"No no. You have Asgardian blood in you now. As does the soldier of winter. We have um, what's the Midgardian word for this? I think you call them soulmates. It's who you fit with on a nonlinear plane. Hugh was mine and I was his. We are rare. Most people have unreciprocated connections. You're lucky, most humans are not permitted the certainty of knowing where their heart lies. Soulmates is what got me into this mess, though."

"Because you couldn't let your husband stay dead?"

"Because of the man who killed my husband. I was his, but he was not mine. He was cruel and jealous and spiteful and took our daughter so I would go to him. Hugh went after her and Loki lashed out. He took everything from me that day, so I ran and tried to take something back." She glanced up again, noting the drag of my eyelids.

"Hugh set up blankets in the guest bunks upstairs. Why don't you go get some sleep? You'll be more useful in the morning. Thank you, though. Sincerely."

I climbed the stairs without complaint, truly swaying now as sleep deprivation reared its head. Between kidnappings, jail and breaking someone out of another jail, sleep had taken a backseat; it was due time I let it drive. I kicked the door shut to the bunk room and face planted on the first bed I saw. Dust and dirt kicked up and I rolled to the wall to cough it out of my system.

My scream upon seeing the man laid out next to me was stifled by the metal covered hand slamming over my mouth. Scott's helmet whipped back revealing his mess of dark hair and dancing green eyes. My fist slammed into the pillow beside his head as I jerked away.

"What the fuck!" I hissed, looking at the thin wooden wall shielding us from two powerful beings in the next room.

"Sorry. Sorry. I had to wait for you to be alone. I was waiting at the prison while the others canvased, well, earth for where the huge bastard had taken you. I hitched a ride since then. Your hair smells horrible by the way, though I'm grateful you didn't shower while I was on board. Where are we, by the way? I might have been napping during the plane ride here."

"So you can tell Stark?"

"Well….yeah?" Scott tilted his head, sitting up now. "You say that like you don't want to be rescued. And…" he jumped, pressing something in his ear. "Wanda wants to talk to you."

"She's safe?" I breathed.

"Of course. We're not completely useless. Stark tends to cover that base. The captain was the one who found her, him and your little arm candy. Emphasis on the arm because how can you miss that thing? Alright, alright," he spoke into the earpiece. He dug it out and held it out for me.

"A) that's disgusting. B) I'm not going anywhere, Scott."

"That sucks, I have been craving caramel apples and I've yet to see one around here."

"Stop joking. Leave."

"Yeah, no. They're already tracking us. I clicked the little red button when you were safe in here with me a few minutes ago."

"I can't just leave. I'm needed her. You don't understand. Menzel is the only one who can stop Hugh and I'm the only one who can help her."

"Pretty sure Stark can learn the biology needed for that overnight and give old hulk wannabe the permanent night night pill."

"Stark isn't Asgardian."

"And this isn't your family, Haven. I know Hugh thinks you're his daughter, I know you lost your parents, but let me tell you Stockholm is a real thing sugar plumb and they've got you so brainwashed you think that exsanguination is the only answer."

"She only takes a little and only when she needs it."

"What happens if she needs it all? If it comes down between you and the beasty. She won't choose you, Haven."

My breath was tight, my chest knit into a spiral that he was only adding knots to with every attempt to unravel it. I knew my decision. I was done letting others make them for me. I was done letting the Avengers pretend they were the law of the land. I had foreign blood in me now, this was no longer my land.

He relaxed when I took the earpiece.

"Wanda?" I asked.

"Thank god. Get back alive so I can kill you. Are you insane?"

"I need you to do something for me."

"Of course. Of course. Do you want me to get Barnes or Wilson? I think they're asleep, but I'm sure they will want to hear from you."

"I need you to stop looking for me."

Scott was asleep in the time it took for me to grab our meager supply bag. My fingertips tingled from the exploitation of my power. Something distracted me from fully completing the job, however. A voice that broke when first used and crumpled my heart up along with it.

"Ace?"

My knees trembled as if I did not already know who spoke. Bucky Barnes who I had been deliberately cutting out of my dreams. My voice would not respond, but my breathing was erratic enough that he knew I was listening to his strained voice. Soulmate. The word was so overused it was almost trivial. But she could picture him now as she sat down hard. He would be across from hair, legs cross and arms folder, shoulders hunched inward in every attempt to make his pure physicality less intimidating. His hair would be in a bun from sleep and no doubt falling this way and that from the stress. And his touch, god his touch would be so gentle while those big blue eyes implored her to give in. To just let him help.

"Ace, I'm on my way."

She smashed the earpiece before she could rethink her decision, before the yearning to be buried in his hug overwhelmed her morality.

She rushed down the stairs, finding Menzel anxiously dancing as one of her concoctions brewed in a beaker. Hugh was nowhere to be seen.

"They found us," I said.

Menzel's excited smile vanished, hardening to stone as a million new plans ran through her head.

"I've got a safe house down in the mountains of south America. I have a little magic that can get us mostly there, but there's shields around it so there will still be a lot of foot travel required, but we can manage if Hugh carries the heavier equipment. I'll have to find us food because it isn't stocked." She shoved a bag into my hands that shifted like it was full of sand that smelled of the rainforest. She wheeled about, muttering to herself as she sorted out what was necessary from what could be left behind.

Her computer beeped, the noise so trivial I would have paid it no mind. But she performed a full 180 to face it, face coloring and lips parting. "That's it," she whispered.

"Did it finish updating or something?" I asked.

"That's the cure. I did it. We did it. By the stars, we can end this."

A few emotions flooded me, most of them resembling that same relief. There was one still thinking about that apple Scott had mentioned, but I shoved that away for later when he would forgive me and we could treat each other. The barn doors swung open on a lazy breeze, but Menzel was too busy staring in wondrous awe to notice. Hugh walked in, gait too stiff, eyes too unfocused. I touched Menzel's arm to point it out. She just skipped into Hugh's arms, hugging his neck as sad tears descended on her cheeks.

"Something is wrong, Joy," Hugh said.

"Everything will be okay soon, I promise. You'll be alright."

But something was wrong. Hugh's skin was flaking off in patches, his eyes reddening as blood vessels gave way. He was deteriorating and his powers taking over as the flesh died off. Menzel reached for the sedating syringe in her back pocket and Hugh reacted, like I had seen him do half a dozen times by now. Death was not slow motion, but entirely too fast. There was no time to register what had occurred and even less to decide how to proceed.

Menzel collapsed as the needle pieced his skin, unmoving unbreathing. Her throat was an ugly blue and purple color consistent with strangulation. The wind screamed along with Hugh at the haunting sight and the roof tore clean free. The wind ripped at my feet, it threatened to knock the cure down, rendering everything unusable. I lunged for it, upsetting Hugh further. The clouds went black and rain poured down as a hurricane he might as well have dragged from the pacific with his bare hands bore down on us. There was a suffocating moment where I flashed back to the house that used to occupy these lands. The house I tore apart when I held no reigns on my powers just like this.

I didn't pity him because he acted like a surrogate father. No, I could be Hugh. It was far too easy to imagine myself in his shoes, hurting those I loved.

I couldn't _breathe._ Not because of any physical impairments, but because I could not separate myself from the psychotic break happening before me. A stall door flew past me, nearly relieving my torso from the burden of my legs. Instead of moving or running, I just clutched the cure to my chest, thumb tracing over the stopper that held the golden liquid inside.

A body slammed into me from behind, weighed down only by the mass of his suit. Scott squinted through the swirling storm, eyes still heavy from sleep.

"We have to go!" he shouted over the angry air.

I wouldn't have. I would have let Hugh destroy me alongside him. But I couldn't let Scott die. He had a family to get back to. So I reached into the magic pouch and threw the contents at our feet, pleading with every god that it would work even if its mistress was dead.


	22. Emergency Landing

24 emergency landing

 **Introducing a new Avenger! I love Bruce so much and have been waiting to finagle him into this story.**

I woke up completely astride a snoring but full-sized Scott. While I could feel the heat from the sun in the air, a canopy of helpful trees stretched across the sky to keep it from touching us. Grass rose up over our forms and would probably block our line of sight even if we were standing. What I could see over it was tree trunks thicker than trucks and either a lot of vines or enough snakes dangling from the branches to make me begin earnestly searching for the pouch of magic sand that had apparently transported us where Menzel said it would instead of what I requested of it.

I located the supply bag a few feet away, one of my shoes, but no magic sand. I threw a curse into the air, but the chatter from the bugs swallowed it before it could dream of bringing us help.

A kick to Scott's metal clad foot only resulted in him snoring louder. So, I dropped down to his ear and whispered obscene things about food that had him moaning and blinking open those forest green eyes.

"Did we die? Is this eden? Where's the forbidden apple tree?"

"Pretty sure we're somewhere in South America. Brazil most likely."

"Sweet, I always wanted to be eaten by a python." Scott hit a button on his suit that rendered it pocket sized and tucked it away in said pocket of his dark jeans. His white shirt was already doused with pinpricks of sweat and his hair damp from either the same of the humidity.

I remade the bun on my head, patting at the flyaways hopelessly and tugged the hem of my lightweight dress. Mezel had picked it out from a gas station for me, but anything was better than the prison getup.

Scott hopped to his feet, stretching his arms high over his head. "I vote north. There's got to be a town somewhere."

"What happened to your tracker?"

He produced it from his other pocket, wires splitting from a crack in the plastic. "I may have landed on it when you knocked me out. Chest still hurts by the way, thanks for that. I can fix it if I have the right equipment, but as it is, your pretty face isn't enough to get the job done."

My jaw slipped and I dove back to where we landed in search of something else that may have been broken in the chaos. The vial sat on a bed of grass as if waiting for me to pick it up. I did, cradling it against me before tucking it carefully into the backpack.

"That your energy juice?" Scott asked.

"This is what is going to take Hugh down. Joy died to protect this. North?"

He nodded and fell into step with me. It was slow going, with the grass fighting their every step and Scott shrieking every time a critter appeared before them. It only took minutes for sweat to claim every expanse of their skin. It took hours to find any sort of sign from human life, an abandoned camp site with the brush hacked away. Scott swayed towards the ground, exhaustion weighing down on him as the brief glimpses we caught of the sky continued to dim. I caught his arm, dragging him along in my wake.

"That's as good a place to crash as any. It's getting dark and I don't fancy the idea of sleeping in a tree just in case your completely thought through plan of finding a town doesn't pan out."

"It's not a plan. I can feel it," I said.

"And I can smell a cheeseburger. Doesn't mean either of our dreams is coming true, avatar."

"I can feel the shifts in the air, Lang. I…I can feel the life. We can make it before sundown just trust me."

"Because you've totally earned that."

"Fair. Alright. We walk one more hour and then we come back here if we haven't found anything."

"Don't get me wrong, I want to believe you. Just, these aren't my trapped in the middle of a rainforest hiking boots. These are more for downtown, I don't know, Vegas. I've never been to Vegas. Bet you could call a man's bluff by the way he breathes. Let's go when we get all this sorted out."

"Think I'd just rather go home. I haven't seen Costa Rica in years."

"You gonna invite the Sargent?" Scott teased, jarring her ribs with his elbow.

"He's fucking pissed," I muttered, tucking a few stray curls behind my ear. "He's never gonna trust me after this."

"Why? Because you gave yourself up for us twice? Because the woman who manipulated your mind, convinced you she was right?"

"Because she was."

"Right. Right. I'm just giving you shit. Anyway, I'll go regardless. I've been meaning to even out my tan. The Sargent probably needs to as well from you know, cryofreeze and all. That lighting can't be good for his natural pearly skin."

"Shut the fuck up," I laughed, rolling my eyes at the ridiculous man.

The trees parted, the ground dipping down into a valley. Her eyes settled on the little village nestled in the crevice of the mountains. Smoke wafted up from a few chimneys and distant sounds of laughter carried through the air. I exhaled in relief, gripping the nearest tree for support. The fading sun set the sky as an eerie gray color. I thought about flying there for the joy of it. _Joy._

Scott was the one to shove the thought away, by distracting me with another. The mountain immediately to our left was the source of the unrest in the atmosphere I felt. It drew in the dull colors of the sky and created storm clouded just itching to break. Scott licked his lips and squeezed my hand where it had landed in his own. "So, my vote is the inviting houses instead of the foreboding doomsday hill."

"Hugh is up there. He was transported too."

"Yeah, that solidifies my answer. You gonna convince him to swallow that magic juice?"

"He's too far gone mentally. He killed his own wife. We should contact the team first. Let's go see if that village has any form of technology to help us."

"Look at you maturing and deciding not to throw your life to the wind. That was a pun by the way since you can manipulate the wind." Scott talked us all the way down the valley.

The trek was tiresome and my shins screamed by the time we reached the bottom and the beginnings of a dusty footpath leading between the petite buildings. Homes made from thin slices of wood and bound with hand-woven twine stretched down the street and outward in close knit rows that left barely any room for pathways between. Scott hunkered closer to me, body heat sticking to me more than the humid air about us.

The citizens milled about in the bare minimum of clothing consisting of muted colors and curious gazes. I felt like stripping away a few layers to join them; the sweat soaking through my shirt rendered it pretty much useless at this point.

While we treaded forward, the people parted around us, whispering in Portuguese. I could pick up a few similar words, but the rest was lost on me. One small girl planted herself directly in front of us, swaying back on her heels to crane her neck up to Scott's pale features.

"Hello there. Holla," Scott tried.

The child, maybe one at the most, still toddling and figuring out words in general, pointed to his face and cackled in delight.

Scott glanced at me. "I think I'm being mocked."

"You're sunburned without actually being in the sun today. It's pretty amusing."

Scott pressed his hands to his reddened cheeks while I turned to address the mother figure hovering close to the child. I put on a kind smile and offered out my hand. She glanced at it, scooped up her child, settling the girl on her hip and cut her head towards the smallest building at the far end of the street.

"Médico," she said.

"Doctor?" I asked. "No he doesn't need a doctor."

"Americano." She pointed at Scott then towards the shack again. "Americano."

"I think she means theres another american in there," Scott interrpreted.

"Yes, thank you," I clipped to him, then turned to the woman. "Thank you," I repeated more sincerely.

She grinned and ushered us forward, the others falling into step as our own little escort to the curtained doorway. I rapt my knuckles against the frame and Scott let out a little start of fright when it ripped back instantly. A man with small square glasses sat on his nose and dark hair mused in all directions of the compass stuck his head out. His mouth was open with a greeting but snapped closed when he spotted Scott and myself.

"Bruce Banner?" Scott asked.

Bruce took off his glasses, straightening and adjusting his loose white shirt. "Can I help you?" he asked.

Scott cackled and surged forward to hug the shorter man. "Oh man, I'm glad to see another Avenger. You happen to have any parts to help me fix this ear piece so I can call the others to come help with a little problem we may have set loose on your unsuspecting land?"

Bruce pushed Scott away gently and held the curtain open with his thin shoulders. "Why don't you two come inside."

Scott led the march and I followed while Bruce thanked the woman he called Estrela for bringing us to him. With the curtain shut and the contraining walls of the shack limiting his pacing area, Scott seated himself on the matress leaking straw. I leaned against the wall surveying our newest ally. Of course I knew tales of the timid man who could turn rampaging beast. His gaze was sharp, his intentions palpable and his face carefully neutral.

"How did you find me?" he questioned, propping himself up ont he hand-carved wooden table spilling over with notes.

"Oh, trust us. We weren't looking. I'm Scott by the way, Ant Man if you prefer. You get big when you turn on your powers, and sometimes destroy towns. I shrink, sometimes too much, haven't done that in a while. Anyway, Haven over there got a hold of some magic sand and poofed us here to get away from a general catastrophe of a man and broke our only communication device in the process."

"Saved our lives too. Nevermind that," I grumbled.

Bruce's gaze turned to me curiously. He was barefoot and wore fabric meant to be as soothing as the atmosphere around here. "Magic sand?" he repeated.

"It's a long story. Do you have anything Scott can use to repair our communication? I can explain while he works," I offered.

Bruce reached for a duffel in the corner and tossed it at Scott. He pulled out a powerless cellphone, laptop and a few music players.

"There's no signal out here. No electricity either," Bruce said.

"I can get catch a radio signal. Or make one if I have to. Thanks big guy."

Bruce nudged the one chair inside toward me and pushed himself up to sit atop the desk. He pulled open a drawer, revealing a bottle of whiskey. "I don't drink." He tossed it to me. "My patients do."

"Mind if i make you my acting physician?" I asked as I let the fire work its way down my throat.

Scott was too absorbed in his work to add in his own snappy comment. Bruce just smiled kindly and clasped his hands. "So, you have something to do with the brewing storm?"


	23. Cruising Altitude

25 cruising altitude

No matter how Scott whined for the use of the microscope for his makeshift radio, Bruce would not yield his most prized possession. He had been leaned over it all night, analyzing the serum Joy produced to save us from her own hand.

"Those Asgardians have such strange chemicals," he mumbled for what I estimated as the fifth time since the sun rose. "I have no experience with them, my expertise is in Gamma, but this might not even work. From what I can tell, it appears highly unstable and its breakdown is at a remarkably slow rate, but still the longer it remains unused, the less effective it becomes. I would guess that we have a week tops before it is all for naught, the death of this Doctor Menzel to produce and your sacrifice to save it."

"Is it like a radiation breakdown? Or like when you keep crackers in your mouth too long?" Scott called.

"Neither of those are relatable." Bruce sighed. He did that a lot around Scott.

I smiled at the juxtaposing pair and spun the vial between my hands haphazardly.

"If the original serum, the one that created Hugh Menzel, is anything like this one, I can guess how his state came about. It evolved inside him just as this one is meant to devolve, taking over his body until there is more of it than him. If it is still replicating this way, it is no wonder why he is deteriorating mentally. You are the perfect middle ground, Rosales."

"So, even if we manage to get it inside him without being killed first, it still might not even do what it is designed to?" I asked.

Bruce nodded solemnly. "I'm sure the doctor would have liked to test it before its application and I would suggest the same, but as it is our only available subject is not nearly as far gone as the mutant."

Scott's head jerked up from his work, his fingers snapping off the button designed to turn the damn radio on. "You mean Haven. You want to test it on her? Won't that take away her powers? Aren't those the only thing keeping her alive?"

"I kind of like living. Also, I made a promise that I would stop being so careless with my own life."

Scott nodded along to my words.

"Like I said, it won't even be applicable to the mutant even if you were to perform the experiment."

"You? Leaving us so soon, doc?" Scott called.

His tight grin was confirmation enough. The duffle Scott emptied of his few electronics was now being stuffed with the few personal items that were portable. "I know you'll get that thing working, and the the Avengers will show up. This environment is not good for my condition as it is. Adding their…overbearing opinions, while meant well, would only add to the stress."

Haven surged forward, catching the petite man in a hug. He did not shrug her off or return it, but when she pulled away he gave her forearm a comforting squeeze. "I do wish I could help more."

"You have. So much. Can you send like a postcard or something so I know you're safe?"

"And a souvenir?" Scott perked up.

Bruce let out a real laugh at the good nature in the room. "I wouldn't even know where to send it."

"That's true," Scott allowed. "Maybe we can start a chat room or something. We can all have codenames. You can be hut-man and Haven can be farm-lady."

"And you can be mime-man," Haven cut him off with an affectionate ruffle of his hair.

"in—receiving me?" the ear piece sparked to life as the radio fizzled with static.

Scott froze in shock while Sam's voice repeated the message over the airways. "Come in. Are you receiving me?"

Bruce nodded between us before disappearing out the door. When Scott didn't pick up the communication device, I sighed and plucked it from his grasp.

"We copy," I said.

"Rosales!" Sam shouted, temporarily deafening me. "Give me your coordinates. The tracking bit on this thing is still down. Is the creature under control? We can't get a lock on him either. The others are out looking for you around where you were last seen."

"Well that won't do any good. Try Brazil. Rainforest village to be more precise. The map on the wall says it's called Mundo Verde. And we don't have Hugh under control but we have a way to and we need your help."

"What was that? I think it broke up for a moment," Sam responded, teasing pouring through even the international communication.

"Just get here Sam. I can admit when I need help," I snapped.

"Since when?"

Scott chuckled, practically groping me to press his ear against mine so he could hear both sides of the conversation.

"Oh, for goodness sake, Samuel. Stop giving the girl a hassle. She needs comfort in these times," Sally's voice cut his voice along with a thud and Sam complaining in the background.

"Hello darling. Is everything alright? Anything a doctor can help you fix up before the rescue crew arrives?"

"Scott's kind of annoying? Any prescription for that?"

"Haven keeps bossing me around," Scott fired right back, jabbing at my side.

Sally laughed delicately on the other end. "You both sound right as rain. Keep your heads down and tails up and…" the end of her advice cut out for real this time and Scott kicked his radio to remedy it but it was no use, the signal had been severed.

Haven sagged against Scott's shoulder, rubbing away her headache, while he eased both of them back down to the lumpy mattress. She turned to face him as he opened his mouth to say something. His lips brushed the corner of her mouth and neither party jolted away. He just grinned lazily while she blinked up at him.

"That was anticlimactic. Thought we had a spark going back in Chicago," he said. "Or are you and Barnes official now?"

"I love him."

"Ok, wow you just came out with it. Since we're confessing, I may have eaten the granola bar in my pocket without sharing it earlier."

"I need you to test the serum on me, Scott."

"I know it's horrible, but the soup Bruce gave us tasted like feet. Not his feet in particular, but just like a general footy sensation, like Estrela stuck her foot in to spite the Americano."

"Scott, if it doesn't work, I need you to tell him that I loved him. That I didn't want to leave this time. That I'm not afraid anymore of my powers or him or the future."

"Or we could just not…Bruce said if. We don't know anything."

"The mundo can't afford if."

"Do you mean that as in this village or the literal translation of the entire world? Don't look so shocked, I pick up language rapido."

"Scott, you're stalling."

"Just…just wait. The other are on their way. They can think up a better plan."

I raised my eyebrows. He groaned taking my hands into his and leaning forward. "Let me take it," he insisted.

"You got Asgardian blood now?"

"No but it gets boring sitting around letting you take all the big chances. Where's my fun?"

"Scott?" I whispered, voice breaking. His hands flew to my face. "I need you to do this. Because I'm terrified I might not get through this." I unscrewed the vial, shoving it into his shaking hands. "Please, there isn't time."

"We don't know that. We don't know anything."

"We know the storm is getting bigger. We know nothing on this earth can stop him. Joy created something and she died for it. How can I be prepared to offer anything less?" Tears were rolling down my cheeks.

"By being selfish for once! Don't you want to see Barnes again? Or Wanda or Sam?"

"You're not helping."

"Maybe because I don't want my friend to die!" he snapped. My lips pursed while his chest heaved.

"I know I've acted like I had a death wish ever since I died. But I don't right now. And I have to believe my will to live will be enough."

He licked his lips, shaking his head, green eyes imploring with my cemented reason. "What am I supposed to do? Watch you die?"

"Stay by my side. Help me _live."_

His fingers curled around mine as he pressed the vial into my hands nodding with the weight of the world we were trying to protect on his shoulders. "I'll be here when you wake up. I won't leave you. The others will be here and they can help."

I nodded, leaning into possibly the last human touch I would ever experience. My friend, my confidant. My Bucky hundreds of miles away from me. I opened myself up to him as I raised the tasteless liquid to my mouth. Only one swallow was what it took for me to sway under the effects. Bucky's face flashed by like a dream of smoke, except I was the one fading into the fog. Scott caught the remaining serum and my limp body, his own tears finally allowed to fall free. My eyes didn't close like I was sleeping. They remained open, clouding over until the only thing I saw was the stars my blood came from.


	24. Full Throttle

**Decided to spare y'all the cliffhanger. Throw your thoughts at me, the constructive ones. Please don't use my reviews to whine about how you wanted this story to go. I love you all and value your opinions, so please do the same. This is mainly directed at one particularly negative comment, the rest of you are gems who I think of as my own. Much love!**

Once you become something more than human, the transition back is something like shoving worms into the can from which they've been unleashed. As it was, I felt rather like a squished worm, no bones, slightly suffocated, and definitely in need of a long scalding shower.

Sally was seated at my side, offering an attempt at a scolding look down at me. At her side was a snoring Scott stretched out in a sleeping bag. "That was foolish," she said.

"I'm not dead?"

"Rather human, though, anything but boring. Samuel flew me in, rather excitingly I might add, and I do mean flew. I used what I knew of Menzel's research to slow down the serum removal process. Or the cure, as she calls it. That allowed your body to begin functioning on its own terms, without the aid of extraterrestrial blood."

"Your heart stopped twice," Sam deadpanned from his position holding up the wall. His meaty arms were crossed and he looked down his nose at me irritably. Probably more at the fact that he had to fly out here to save my ass instead of at my actual deeds.

"But I restarted the fickle thing and everything appears to be in order," Sally assured. "Now," she straightened from her chair. "I'm going to go sort through your files and do a bit of fun reading since everything is back to normal. I thank you for you willingness to test the serum. I know it is a bit of a nasty thing."

She strode from the room and Sam shifted instantly to occupy the vacant spot. He scooted the chair until his knees were in line with my face. He didn't speak at first, just glared at me with a gaze that would wither an entire acre of crops.

Finally, he knocked his knuckles lightly against my shoulder and let an exasperated smile take over his face. "You ever gonna stop pulling moronic stunts on me? Tornados in Wakanda? Running away from Clint? Giving yourself up to Hugh? Stabbing yourself for that maniac?"

"Red Wing appreciates me keeping things interesting," I replied.

Sam snapped his fingers, pointing them at me accusingly. "Hey, woah. Don't bring the little man into this. He knows better than to fall prey to your antics."

I grinned up at my friend and he rolled his eyes. "Get some rest. Get better," he instructed, seeing himself out.

I tossed my pillow at Scott, watching him jerk to life. "No, no doc. The history of antibiotics is fascinating. Continue. Will there be a test after this?"

"Bonus points for keeping your word," I said.

His gaze flew to me, dancing with relief. He was on top of me, hugging and kissing my hair and face, and making embarrassing conversation with himself. "I knew it. I knew you'd be alright."

"No you didn't. You were crying you big softie."

"Well you tried to die. Again."

"Rather tiring business."

"Of course. Of course. Want me to get you water?"

"Yeah," I breathed to get some space for a few minutes.

He left and the healing drugs in my system floated me back onto the dream river for a few hours. The moon had risen when I woke and the hut was filled with far more voices than it seemed capable of containing. The clay walls on either side of me perspired in the steaming night. My blankets somehow had become tangled over the unlit kerosene lamp in the corner. Star light petered in through the cutout of a window, illuminating the undecorated room.

A throat cleared, drawing my attention to the source of my wakeful state. When I looked up to see who stood in the doorway, the ache in my gut shifted to wrap around my heart. Bucky hesitated on the threshold, his face hidden behind the veil of dark hair hanging over the cast down expression. He glanced through thick fringes of eyelashes to look at me, to cut straight through me with the ice picks of his eyes.

I shifted on the cot, dragging my feet to fold beneath me and offering him space at the foot of the bed. Bucky walked over soundlessly, his booted feet sliding over the dirt floor until he planted his ass across from me. The metal of my makeshift hospital bed squeaked under the addition of his weight and I reached out to touch his arm and he just stared at the gesture, hurt lacing the air between us like a poison.

"I didn't want to die," I said quickly.

"You valued the mission over your own life." Bucky spoke with such an even voice guilt lacerated my lungs.

A shaky breath flew through my gritted teeth before I dipped a nod. "Tell me you haven't done that before."

A tight smile, cracking the little fissures of his chapped lips. His metal hand reached up to cover mind where it rested on his denim covered knee. "I'm not mad at you for that. I'm not mad at all, actually. I just…I don't think I'm ready to have anyone else close to my heart yet. I fuck it up enough on my own and I really don't need help there. And I don't think you're ready either, or you need someone a hell of a lot more stable than me."

Oh there was the knife, and he was twisting it, but blood didn't pour from this wound, just tears. I sniffled pathetically, smiling through a sharp shake of my head. "Are we breaking up?" I asked.

"Maybe not forever. Maybe we just need to focus on the mission for now. You had the right idea with that. And whatever happens after it's over…"

"We can figure that out then," I agreed.

Bucky leaned forward, pressing his lips roughly against my forehead, fingers curling beneath my chin. He pulled away only fractionally, breath fanning over my fevered skin in quick bursts. "Hold on to this for me, will you?" he pressed his half of the locket into my palm and I nodded pathetically, fresh tears brimming.

With only the ghost of his touch lingering, Bucky strode from the room.

I crawled to the edge of my cot, grappling for my jacket hanging on the back of the chair Sally occupied when I woke. When I pulled it onto my lap, I dug out my locket half from the pocket and positioned them both side by side. The clasp was broken and I doubted I had the means to fix it in this secluded hut in the middle of the rainforest. So, I merely slid his piece onto the chain mine occupied and nestled them together. Then, I latched it about my neck and tucked it beneath the thin white tank top I wore, so Bucky could rest right beside my heart.

A half hour passed before my door opened again. This time, Wanda entered, her arms crossed over her chest, and her long hair piled into a bun away from her sweat glistening skin. "We're discussing how to proceed," she said.

"Since when do you guys bother including me in things like that?" I demanded.

"Since you put the world's safety above your own. Since you sacrificed your own mental well-being to stay with Menzel and that creature to make sure she produced the cure. So we could stand a chance of taking him down. I know we've doubted you before, a lot, but you've proved yourself."

Wanda tapped my wrist. I looked up at her with wide eyes. They thought I sided with them. They thought it was a selfless sacrifice for me to help Joy and Hugh. But they were like me. And now one of them was dead and we had to end the other.

The Avengers played at being my family, and while their intentions were good, they weren't home. Not even Costa Rica was home anymore. My birth family lay under six feet of earth and my makeshift parents, who only ever strove to protect me, were soon to join them.

"Need help?" Wanda asked when I reached for the cane positioned beside my bed.

Ever move was painfully human. Each shift a reminder that the air around me was now as foreign as my own body. I was a stranger in this skin. My thigh was wrapped tightly where the needle as thick as my thumb plunged in. It throbbed when I put the slightest weight on it, so I relented and made use of the bamboo cane.

Wanda led the way into the compact living area. The two chairs were unoccupied, Earth's mightiest heroes contenting themselves to stand about bickering over the proceedings. My escort made sure I claimed the comfier of the two chairs before migrating to a man whose skin was as red as her magic.

T'challa commanded the room, his powerful stance intimidating even from the opposite side. Steve stood at his side, thumbs hooked in his utility belt, nodding along as the King spoke. Every damn Avenger that there was, or ever had been was crammed into this room, except Bruce who was an unstable isotope we didn't need anywhere near the nuclear reactor that already was Hugh. And that god, who we couldn't really summon at will.

Tony was stiff, closest to me, farthest from Bucky, his eyes fixed purposefully on the ceiling. Differences aside, Civil War pinned carefully out of mind, they were back together to take down a threat too much for any one alone.

And I was a human who needed a cane to walk.

"I'm all for stealth, your grace," Natasha spoke up. "But perhaps, a distraction is needed as well. We could send in those better equipped to take the brunt of his force, while a smaller team strikes from behind."

"Or I could go alone," Vision offered.

"No offense, buddy, but you fly to get shit done. Know how you do that? Air," Clint input.

"But I do not require oxygen," Vision argued.

"We could wear face masks," Clint offered.

"How fast do you think he'll rip those off?"

The fighting picked up to earsplitting levels and at one point, I swear I saw Clint reach up and just shut off his hearing aids completely. When Rhodey had to insert himself between an aggressive Sam and a kid bouncing on his toes, Spider Boy I think.

Scott sighed and wove his way through the mayhem to claim the stiff chair beside mine. He leaned over, hands folded on his lap. "He has no physical weaknesses," he said.

"Joy was his weak spot, but she's dead," I replied.

Scott was staring at me pointedly. I closed my eyes, taking a moment to accept his unspoken point. I seized my cane, pushing myself to my feet. No one noticed. I looked to Scott for help and he cracked his knuckles before cupping his hands around his mouth.

"Hey, is that Hugh?" he called, pointing dramatically out the window left ajar to allow a steady stream of air laden with moisture into the room.

The room silenced like a concussion, a dozen sets of eyes focused on the single door that could provide entry.

"This is your moment." Scott nudged me. "False alarm. But keep quiet, will you?" he called to the crew.

I cleared my throat, and their gazed fixed on me. The only one I wanted to meet, however, was fixed on the locket that had fallen on top of my shirt instead of hiding beneath it. Twin ice sheets glanced up, melting me all over again making me want to throw this damn locket at Bucky's face and forget everything else.

Instead, I said, "He thinks I'm his daughter, Mercy. He won't hurt me. You can use me as bait or a hostage or something."

"Like he didn't hurt his own wife?" Steve clipped.

"She died from touching him. So I won't do that. We can put the cure in tranquilizers or something. Barton can shoot. I know Bucky is a good sniper. We lure him out, keep his powers quiet long enough to fire off a good shot that puts him down."

"And if he kills you instead?" Tony demanded.

"Give me another needle so I can take him down with me, I guess."

I didn't break my gaze from Bucky's to say that. And I watched as the wary expression morphed into one of pure fury. The room hummed in agreement, now fiddling with details and resigned acceptance to the storm that was barreling down on us faster than a meteor.

Bucky migrated to Sally, talking to her for a brief moment and taking something from her cardigan pocket. Scott patted my knee, ducking away before Bucky's rampage could draw him to a halt in front of me.

"Maybe you do want to die," he hissed.

"It's our only plan. And you gave up your piece of the locket, so you get no say," I snapped.

"Fine, just tell me this isn't a suicide jump and I'll stop fighting you."

I opened my mouth, finding it dry. A thick swallow forced me on. "I'm just trying to be logical. I fought off the serum once, so I think I can handle one of its occupants."

Bucky's hands fisted into his loose hair, pulling down while he fought to keep from shouting in the calmed atmosphere. "You don't have to live for me. In fact, don't. Just _live._ Okay? You were given a second chance. Use it. Don't give up on the home stretch. Can you promise me that if it comes down to it, you won't do something stupid and reckless?"

"No. Could you forgive me for dying?"

"Only if you forgive me," he sighed tiredly, dejectedly, his entire face dragged down by a weight any normal man would be crushed beneath.

"For what?" I asked, feeling a pinprick in my side.

He was sedating me. I swayed and Bucky placed steadying hands on my biceps, easing me back down into my seat. "I'm sorry." He muttered, touching my face tenderly before the darkness blotted him and everything else out.


	25. Final Call

27 final call

There was a cool arm under the back of my knees and a burning one cradling my bouncing head against a strong chest. Bucky's calming scent washed over me as I shifted back and force in the careful embrace as he carried me steadily further uphill. My eyes were laden with lead and refused to open more than a slit. The morning sky was the color of pepto bismal, or maybe that's just an association to the fact that I felt like vomiting everywhere. A few clouds lingered in the air, timid in build, afraid of what was to come, afraid to draw attention by fleeing.

We must be on a walking trail, because otherwise I would not have been able to see through the thick tangle of trees that now merely passed on the outskirts of my vision. I may not have my abilities anymore, but I could tell how still the air was. Just like when Hugh invaded the safe house in Florida. Not a bird streaked through the air or cawed with its usual morning vigor.

Shutting my eyes against the tense whispers that my ears began to pick up, I drew a steadying breath. We were still trudging uphill, so the encounter hadn't occurred yet. I might have been useful conscious or untied, but they had taken matters into their own hands. So much for trusting me.

A tug at my wrists told of the loosely bounds ropes there and similar knots sat about my ankles. When I flicked my tongue out to sooth my raw lips, it met the gag in place. Any other situation where I was in bondage with Bucky, this might have been a turn on. As it was, I really just wanted to break his nose just a little bit.

"Just stay still," Bucky murmured feeling me stir in his arms.

"Fuck you," I stated, though it came out indistinguishable. I think he got the gist from my tone. Even if I wanted to escape, my arms and legs felt like they belonged to someone else. Even if I had feeling, I still had a dud leg that would make resisting pointless.

"I won't risk you. Not again. Please understand," he begged.

"I see him!" Sam swooped down from his bird's eye view just low enough to hover at Steve's side. "He's coming downhill." A dozen sets of hands reached for varied weaponry. "He's holding back."

"Trap?" Steve asked.

"Maybe he senses we have Haven. Don't you have that ability too? Or had?" Sam asked.

"I told you. He just needed to see me to come to his senses. Can you untie me now?"

"Afraid not buttercup. You guys go ahead. Make sure he's not yanking our chain. I'll stay with Rosales." Tony Stark offered.

Bucky glanced to Steve for approval and set me down gently. He pressed a frustrating kiss to my forehead before falling into step with the land team: him, Steve, Natasha, Scott, and T'challa. The others had vanished into the trees at the beginning of this trek.

Quality time with Tony Stark was not something I ever needed in my life, not after he voted for me to be sent to the Raft. But here we were, kicking back in the heart of South America like best buds. Well, I was in bondage and he wore the Iron Man suit, acquaintances, I guess.

He sat beside me with a thud of metal, pulling up the face mask to watch our retreating forces. He reached over and pulled down my gag at least.

"Think I'll double cross you?" I asked. I spat to get the foul taste of the cloth from my mouth.

"No. I figured you out. We're a lot alike. Maybe that's why we clash. You're self-deprecating. It's not selfless, just careless. That has me written all over it. Barnes is trying to keep you alive the only way he knows how." Tony replied quickly.

Sweat trickled down his nose, though he had yet to actually do anything besides fly along in his suit. He blew a lulling fly from his long eyelashes, drumming his fingers against his knees. I shifted, my wrists, trying to get blood flow back to my hands, propping my back up against a tree with some effort.

"Yeah, I know," I murmured. If it was hard for me to trust myself, I know Bucky was even worse off. I could not hate, him however.

A smile glimmered on his lips then hardened into the careful cockiness he religiously wore. "You're not a bad kid," he told me.

I blinked up at him, tilting my head. "I never thought I was."

"Then you're a lot surer of yourself than the majority of people here."

He stood when the heavy thud of several combined footsteps could be heard coming down through the trees. He reached down and securing my muzzle and I groaned in frustration. I saw Hugh first, walking, _alive._ He had put up no resistance, so they would get him to the hulk proof safe house before administering the serum.

Bucky spotted me and smiled reassuringly. Tony flew over, blocking the bulk of the party from my view. "New slate?" he asked Hugh.

"Joy did not wish for me to be like this. I will honor her death," Hugh replied, sniffling pathetically.

"Good choice, Mongo. Mercy would be proud too," Tony clapped Hugh on the arm.

The action itself didn't unsettle the goliath of a man. But when his watery eyes fell on me, bound, silenced, leg wrapped with medical gauze. Shit. I saw the change like the switch of a light, on to off, light to dark. Granted I had been the one to volunteer the idea of playing bait, but no one could have predicted his reaction.

Sam hit the ground first, a forced landing because of the drop in air pressure.

"Woah! Easy there pal." Scott was thrown against a tree, helmet emitting a crack that echoed through the trees with only the cut of Hugh's eyes.

"One chance pal. Stand down." Steve instructed.

"I will have Mercy," Hugh stated.

Tony opened his mouth to seize the whopping joke left hanging midair when the fucking winds from the four corners of hell touched down. Bodies went flying in every direction, weapons were discharged. I saw a blur of red approach Hugh slowly in the madness, Vision. He reached out a hand, letting it dissolve into Hugh's chest. Questioning eyes leapt up when he couldn't kill him.

"It's poetic right? My wife didn't mean to hurt me and I repaid in kind," Hugh said before sending Vision flying off over the tops of the trees.

Tony's feet were latched onto the ground, keeping him mostly upright. But the kinks in his armor were being crushed into useless wrinkles of metal, bolts were flying in every direction. Steve knelt at his side, shield deflecting the blasts from the front, though he could do nothing to keep it from battering against his back, sending him face first into the grass.

I do admire the Avenges and their intentions. But they had to know that Hugh seeing me, the woman he thought was his daughter, restrained, weakened, unable to explain, it was no wonder he lost his goddamn mind.

In an attempt to stand, I was tossed back, ravaged in the wind like a frail kiddy kite. I was thrown into brush so dense, the entire sky was blotted out. Thorns that dug into my ass became useful as I sawed away at the ties on my wrist. Rubbing my cheek against my shoulder, I was able to remove the gag and pant out breaths as thick as the air crushing down.

Hugh was not creating a vacuum this time, merely throwing the entire weight of the atmosphere down onto our shoulders. How did Atlas ever manage to hold up a world this heavy? I could barely lift my hands to free myself.

The pressure pressed down like the hand of God itself, plastering me against the sweaty earth, crushing my lungs like grapes. In movies, this is where my powers would kick back in. There would be just enough of a remnant to save my life and save everyone else.

And for a naive moment, I thought as much truly happened. Because the stones on my chest crumbled to nothingness and air pushed down my throat like an old friend desperate for me to breathe.

But then, I saw Hugh kneeling over me, tears streaked down his filthy face. They leaked down to my face, burning hotter than the Amazon around us. "Mercy," he whispered miserably.

Swallowing deeply, I reached out a hand to grasp his. "It's ok. It's ok, dad."

A blur whizzed behind his head. He flinched at a dart embedded with the cure attached to his side. Red magic hugged the boarders and I turned to see Wanda a few yards back.

"Get away from her," she gasped out, swaying on her feet with the force of the threat.

"Hugh, no!" I grappled for his arm to hold him down, but he shook me off, not feeling the touch at all.

He got up slowly, teeth grit against the effects already coursing through his massive body. "You," Hugh whispered, lashing out with a whip of air meant to severe Wanda clean in half. She barely got a shield up before the blow landed.

A shadow of black hit Hugh from behind, knocking him forward a few steps. T'challa slashed down his barrel of a chest with razors for claws, shredding his shirt and leaving angry red rivers flowing down the pasty skin.

Hugh was bleeding.

I was on my feet desperate to intervene. He was turning, he was weak; he was human. He couldn't hurt anyone anymore. An arrow whistled past me, scraping the skin off my temple before embedding itself in his throat.

Clint dropped to the ground beside me, leaves scattered in his hair, tucked in his camouflaged uniform. Hugh braced his feet, roaring in outright rage. He lunged out, nailing T'challa in the head with the back of his meaty fist. His spin might have carried him directly into me, but Clint jerked me back, strong hands holding me at bay, because I was still straining forward. I had to do _something._

A gunshot rang out, and more blood appeared like a blossoming flowered over his heart. Natasha limped to Clint's other side, her face a mask of terror and resolve, her weapon not lowered from its target.

Hugh dropped to his knees, the white of his eyes stained with the color covering him now. He glanced down at his body in shock, then back up. At me.

He smiled faintly, teeth glittering with scarlet. "Haven?" he asked.

"Let me go, Barton. He deserves someone at his side. He's already dying. Please!" I begged.

Clint released his grip hesitantly and I sprinted forward. My own blood trickled down from the wound above my eye, half blinding me, making the world pitch up sideways slightly.

The same light that kept me from getting to Menzel initially cut through the trees, it cut through Hugh's head, wrapping around like a halo. I dropped to my knees beside his lifeless body, catching the hulking form before it could hit the ground. The smell of charred meat and sour bile wafted up to me.

Dead. He was dead.

Tony clunked over, ripping off his destroyed suit as he walked. Bucky and Steve staggered behind him, supporting each other. Everyone hovered closer, breathing down my neck, muttering nonsense things that made me want to scream.

Bucky collapsed beside me, cradling a limp wrist, a pressure fracture. "Ace? Ace, it's over. You're safe," he said.

I nodded, and let someone pick me up, drag me away from Hugh. At least he was with Mercy now. At least he was with Joy. They were a family once more. And I was left here alone.


	26. Clear the Runway

Just stand. Just be. An eerie calm had settled over me when I was brought back to Wakanda. The Avengers went their separate ways and I came here. Because Bucky was here. Because this is where everything fell apart and I needed it very badly to fall back together. I knew how to do that, to start again. It was the convincing myself to go through with it that was proving the problem.

The roof, once a source of endless frustrations, now offered a tranquil peace that stilled my furious pulse. Hasina had been right.

The letter in my hand was Sally's resignation. It had been passed among the others for a few hours before it reached me and I had yet to unfold the pink pages. Opening it meant moving on. It meant I had to start planning the next chapter in my life? What was I supposed to do after the final boss battle was resolved? Move back to a quiet farm, marry Bucky and reproduce lots of mini Winter Soldiers?

T'challa generously offered for me to stay until the end of my days, stating that the Black Panther would protect any citizen within its borders regardless of their origins or past complications.

"I thought you hated this roof." Sam let the door leading from the stairwell thump shut behind him. He strolled over to me, stretching his well-formed arms high over his head, as if striving to reach the pristine sea of blue above.

His hand clapped over my shoulder, an anchor dragging my thoughts back down to earth.

"It's hard isn't it? Thinking about going through your life as normal? Doing the same things you used to even though you're an entirely different person," he chatted easily, warm brown eyes settling the unease threatening to spill past my lips in the form of sick.

Bucky made my heart take flight, but Sam grounded me, reminded me of humanity.

"I don't blame you. Any of you. You did what you thought was right, which is what I've been doing all along. Will you stay?" I asked instead of replying.

"Of course. We humans have to stick together. Natasha is prowling around down there somewhere, but I swear that woman is a species of her own."

I laughed softly, leaning in to his touch. This is what a friend felt like. They yelled at you when necessary. They supported you when you weren't going insane, but they were there always.

"I'm sure the Cat King can find you a job fitting your strong suits around here. Steve probably won't let you tag along on any more world saving missions, but I'll live text you with all the action going down."

"Do I get to keep a hoodie when you're gone?" I asked.

"I think that job falls to your…whatever the hell you and Barnes are now."

I shrugged to show I was just as in the dark as he was.

As if summoned by just the mention of his name, Bucky strode out to join us on the roof. His t shirt was wrinkled and his face had an impression on it from the nap he must have just woken from. Bleary eyes blinked down as me and lazy finger pushed his hair back into their loose bun.

"Hey," he said softly, nodding to Sam in acknowledgement.

"How do you take five hours naps, man? I'm lucky if I can pull that during actual night hours," Sam replied.

"I actually do productive things when I'm awake," Bucky clipped back.

I smiled, unconsciously leaning in to his presence. My shoulder brushed against his pec and his metal hand shifted to press against the small of my back, searing straight through my clothes and settling a flush against my cheeks.

"Just because you can bench a hundred more than me, doesn't mean I'm not pushing my own limits," Sam said. He bristled like he'd truly been insulted, but I knew the nature of their friendship was more complex than that.

"I bet even Haven could out bench you."

"That's true. I've been known to casually lift houses and whatnot when need be."

Bucky smiled faintly and leaned to press a kiss against my hair.

"Alright, alright, I get it. When you two start teaming up, that's my queue to leave." Sam waved a general sweep of his hand before jogging back downstairs.

Bucky shifted, grunting as he moved the arm trapped in a sling, healing from three different fractures. There was a cut across his collarbone whose stitches had yet to be taken out. We had not really spoken since I woke up to being newly human. I had done things, he had done things and sorting through the madness proved more of a headache than any amount of kissing could resolve. I opened my mouth to say something, anything to fill the silence.

Bucky, however, cut me off, chasing away whatever my words might have been with a breath halting declaration. "I love you," he said, voice gravel over the words, trying to stamp out their importance.

I glanced up at him, reading the truth in the icy burn that hardened his eyes into diamonds. There was something else entirely in the press of his lips, something holding him back from completely losing himself in the stated emotion.

"But?" I asked.

"I can't be a part of your penance."

"Penance? What does that even mean?"

"It means you feel guilty about the things you were forced to do and some of the things you chose. Trust me, I know the feeling from painful experience. And you're trying to make up for it by doing something good."

"Doing you is good?" I teased because I didn't want to admit to how right he was.

"You think that a relationship will make you whole, will stabilize you. Haven, I have a hard enough time keeping my own head on straight. I can't do it for both of us. Do you understand?"

"Yeah," I whispered. "I know."

Bucky rocked back on his heels, eyes tracing over the tree riddled horizon, teeth worrying over a split lip. "So…that's it? We're over?"

"We can be. Or we can go back to my room and pretend this conversation didn't happen, at least for the next few hours."

"That sounds reasonable," Bucky murmured, swooping to catch my lips against his in a kiss that would make even Romeo and Juliet jealous.

I whimpered against the feeling, relishing each press and tucking it away to remember when we could no longer do this. This was goodbye, but I would be damned if it let it be anything but sweet. Bucky deserved a decent ending to our story. I may not feel the same, I didn't know if I could ever open myself up to the vulnerability of love, but I cared about my sweet broken man.

Bucky growled in response, catching my wrist in an unrelenting grip, leading me back down the stairs.

My bedroom was exactly as I had left it when T'challa unceremoniously kicked me out of the country. The only difference was the gorgeous man stripping away layer after layer of clothing. We moved slowly, dragging this out as long as we could. Because, while we were both in agreement of the necessary parting of ways that needed to happen in our future, letting go was like breaking free of a rip current; I was content to drown with him for just a little while longer.

Once bare, save the sling that kept his arm steady, he tugged his hair free and glanced down at me, watching as I rid my body of the last barrier between us, my underwear. He held out a hand, and I set mine in it, letting his calloused fingers rub over the back of it. His eyes traced the path the locket took to settle between my breasts, cool against my flushed skin.

The moment hung in the air like a glider hanging on the last effects of a wind before it landed.

"I'm gonna miss you," he mumbled.

"Not yet."

I pulled him down to kiss me, taking care of his tender lips, hands brushing lightly over his pale skin, running over the ridges his muscles provided. He was a shooting star, slipping away faster than I could grab on. But I didn't want him to stay; we both had to move on. I just wanted to be blinded by him one more time.

His hand skimmed over my breasts, down my side and to my ass where he squeezed. "Turn," he instructed.

I did so with a shudder winding its way down my body. With wetness slicking my inner thigh, letting him know I was more than ready to offer up anything he might ask for. His hard on rubbed against me while his lips sucked bruises onto my neck and his fingers dug fresh bruises into my hip—all would serve as a reminder of him for days to come. Rocking back earned a covetous growl from his bared teeth. His brace scraped mercilessly against my bare skin, the fabric not intended from such friction.

"Bucky," I panted, I begged. His name was a prayer on my lips. I needed the ache between my legs to be resolved. I needed him to make my muscles sore and my body limp with bliss.

"Not yet," he repeated my words back to me with torturous intentions. His hand slid to my clit, circling slowly and deliberately. His nose nudged my neck to the side, teeth toying with the skin on my jaw. "I love you," he repeated. Not as a bargaining chip, not as any sort of coercion. He just wanted to say it. To keep it simmering in the air between us. Because no matter the miles between us or the status of our relationship, it would always ring true.

His fingers pushed inside me then, two metal appendages pressing against a deliciously sinful spot, the chinks readjusting and getting me off even more. My forehead fell against the door he plastered me to, my back arching down to meet his hands and the sweet tension they offered to relieve in painfully short doses. His heart slammed clean through my back and merged with my own. His breath fanned down my skin, igniting every place it reached.

The first orgasm was as blinding as the love itself. I turned on legs barely able to hold up my lightweight frame. He caught me up, pulling me into his arms, locking my ankles behind his back as he walked us back towards the bed.

With me on my back and him finishing off the perfect picture by hovering over me, I touched his jaw. "I love you too," I said.

Misty eyes and sad smiles were chased away as I kissed him yet again. He exhaled a silent sob against my mouth, fisting my hair and crushing out mouths and most delicate of places into one entity. His metal hand framed my face while he rocked into me, pelvic bones rubbing against my clit.

Moments passed or maybe years; I wished for a lifetime before I had to let go of my precious man. I peaked again, floating through the air like I was a part of it again and he traveled with me. And we returned together sharing a kiss that left me breathless in the best human way possible.

My phone buzzed with a text from T'challa and I sat up from bed. 'It's time,' it read.

I swept up shorts and a loose tank top before snatching up my prepacked bag. Bucky braced himself on his forearms, still tangled in the array of sheets on the bed, beautiful and captivating in his vulnerability. He just watched me for a minute before asking, "You're leaving?"

"For a while. Joy had unfinished work on Asgard I want to collect and continue."

"The god that's arriving today?"

"Thor? Yeah. The King and Captain already worked out my passage back with the bodies. I'll return when I finish."

"And you'll come find me?" he asked.

A fine line was made of my mouth when I pressed my lips together. "I don't know. I just know I have to finish this for her, you know. I have to see them home and properly buried. I have to find their daughter."

I unclasped the chain from my neck, tucking it into his human hand and closing his fist around it. "Your turn to watch after that."

Bucky reached out, grasping my hand in his metal one, pulling me in for one more soul burning kiss. He whispered out one word against my lips.

"Go."

 **That's all folks. Throw your thoughts and emotions at me!**


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